Pirates of the 21st Century: A Modernized Tale
by big tears
Summary: A criminal, a spoiled brat kidnap-ee, two cops and the Caribbean. Sounds like fun, eh? COMPLETE
1. Oh Captain, My Captain

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Norrington, ... uh... "Mr." Swann, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner, England, or any of the other Pirates of the Caribbean paraphernelia mentioned within this fanfiction. Except Captain Sparrow, whom I happen to be working on. *grins evilly*

**A/N:** Alrighty. Because I'm trying to finish another multi-chaptered fic, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this. But because this is a very big priority, I shall try to do so very often. Also, mucho thanks to rythmteck, who has been very encouraging! (*cough*Read her fic!*cough*)

_-=-_

Mr. J. Sparrow was, by no means, a criminal. A man who allowed people access to films that were not yet released from the theatres couldn't be compaired to such dastardly fellows as murderers and kidnappers. He was, in his eyes, a man The People appreciated. Wouldn't you appreciate being able to see your new favorite movie seventeen times a day for absolutely free? 

Jack was a pirate. Mostly of films, as previously mentioned, but on rare occasions songs, software, and video games. This business didn't make quite a lot of money, but that was alright for him. There were times when artists, designers and directors would get so fed-up with what he was doing that they would drop a small fortune into his hands on the condition that he no longer uploaded their products. He would accept on the condition that they did not inform the authorities of where he was situated.

It was a cushy little arrangement. He sat in his office -- which was, in all truth, a large closet housing a desk, chair, and rubbish bin -- the glow from his computer screen dulling his eyes as he waited for some hoity-toity narcissist to get browned off and contact him. It didn't matter when he had to make an excursion into broad daylight, meeting said stranger at some obscure little cafè to arrange an accord. He was King of Streaming, Downloading and Generally Avoiding Copyright Laws. 

He was webmaster of fluffiebunnies.com, an innocent name for an innocent-looking site. To a new user, the fluffiebunnies page seemed like a site for girls age 4 - 10: pink, purple, and decorated with adorable things one would not usually associate with illegal activity. But if you were clever and clicked on the tiny daisy .jpeg in the bottom-left corner of the "Fluffie Bunnies Fanclub" page, you would be taken to the real bunnies.com. A black background with silver lettering -- a font created by Jack himself. It was incredibly unique. Piracy had never been so well disguised.

And Jack and never been so pelased with himself.

_-=-_

Tucked into the tiniest corner in London, where practically no one could see it, sat a small restaurant by the name of Knighton's. It wasn't, exactly, a charming little place, but Jack had grown very fond of it through time. Knighton himself made an _amazing_ black pudding... which, incidentally, was one of the two things Jack was waiting for.

He was seated at a two-person table outside, staring up at the foggy gray sky with a mix of excitement and anticipation. He always got this way before an exchange: Nervous and slightly sick. His black eyes darted around, focusing on something for a brief ammount of time before jumping to something else. A bird -- a sign -- a person. A person that was approaching.

Jack knew it was the man he was to be meeting with by one simple thing: clothing. These industry tycoons never realized that in order to be inconspicuous, you can't be dressed in a black trenchcoat with black sunglasses covering most of your face and a large black hat on. They never understood that while that may work in the movies they were so careful of protecting, real people happened to be a lot more suspicious.

For a moment the man looked bewildered, searching the area for another character dressed in a similar outfit of espionage. He was alarmed when Jack stood up, a smirk on his face, and went over to introduce himself.

"Might you be lookin' for the Captain?" he asked, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper.

"Er... yes." he said.

"Name?" His voice dropped an octave lower, the secretive feeling in the air thickening considerably.

The man's sunglasses slipped down his nose, so that only his eyes were visible. "Donovan Sutherland, for Edmund Broderbund... Am I speaking with the Captain?"

Jack's crooked grin broke the tensity. "Aye, lad. Now please, join me over here, and we can discuss business."

"I must say, Sir," Sutherland said, a wary tone to his voice. "Mr. Broderbund and I tried everything possible to get you into a compromising position -- this was our last way out. You're a peculiar man..." -- he took a seat at the small table across from Jack -- "No family, no friends, no lovers, no pets; there was nothing we could do but take part in this _lovely_ little agreement."

"Which is exactly the way I want it," Jack replied, deciding to feel smug for the sake of his image. "Love is a weakness, Mr. S., and by not giving a blindman's cane, I get exactly what I want from people like you."

"How very clever, Captain."

Jack chuckled, pleased to see the briefcase that Sutherland was now sliding discreetly under the table. "Yes," he said, stroking his goatee in a very evil fashion. "I know."

_-=-_

Jack left the area about half and hour later, smiling at the weight of the black leather briefcase in his right hand. It had been an excellent deal, meaning he got the better end of it. Fifty-thousand dollars just to stop free viewings of _The Tin Murderer 1, 2, and 3_. In his eyes it was an overrated movie: A mad serial killer wandering around and gutting people with _aluminum_? Talk about unrealistic.

But as he walked, musing on the film, his path home was interruped by a torrent of wild civilians, and a slew of news broadcasting workers. He stopped in his tracks to do some eavesdropping.

A woman with incredibly tall blonde hair was speaking loudly over all the noise, looking straight at a camera labeled **Channel 2 News**: "Good morning, Elliot, Bianca. Today is a very happy occasion for a majority of people -- Thomas Swann has just joined the Cabinet."

_Ah._ Jack thought. _Nancy-boy Swann... of course..._

Thomas Swann was a leading politician in the community, who had founded such charities as Goodies for Grans and Thomas's Toy Shoppe. In Jack's opinion, the man was an idiot. A big, bloody idiot.

The Channel 2 woman was still speaking. "...We're just waiting for Mr. Swann and his daughter, Elizabeth, to make an appearance and, if we're lucky, a small speech..."

Jack rolled his eyes. Swann's daughter was probably as much of a moron as he was. Most likely spoiled to the core, covered in expensive clothes and whatnot. Namby-pamby, nose-in-the-air, worship-the-ground-I-walk-on spoiled. Jack wrinkled his nose with displeasure. He _hated_ people like that.

He tried desperately to get through the throng of people waiting for the Swanns, but managed only to make it to the middle, where there was a large quantity of space that would be used as a kind of road. Jack muttered curse words under his breath, and sighed. He was going to be stuck here until they left. _Stupid blighters._

_-=-_

I don't want to sound desperate, so I'll just say this: If you liked it, please review and let me know that _someone_ out there wants me to continue. You can flame it you want, but it'll just be ignored. 


	2. The Plot Begins!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Pirates of the Caribbean, I would have one heck of a lot more money. 

**A/N:** There's just one little thing I should mention: This fic does not have the same plot as the movie. While the same general thing happens, there are different circumstances. There is also a lack of old, ugly, cursed pirates, because it would be mucho illogical to have the King Pirate, and then a whole bunch of others who are smelly and... yeah. Author thanks at the bottom.

_-=-_

Little did Jack know, that at the exact same time he was cursing the Swann Family Name, Elizabeth Swann was doing the same. As she and her father pushed through the endless ammounts of people in the building, she couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like had she been blessed with a normal family. Of course, she didn't mind the money. The designer clothes, the jewelry, the maids... But she loathed being in the public eye all the time. If she failed at anything, people knew, and it was irritating.

Elizabeth did not like people knowing about her faults and failures.

Once they had exited into the dreary English morning, she took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air. People had a habit of coating themselves in smelly colognes before attending functions of this nature, and it always made her a bit light headed. And as they walked, her father greeting everyone and giving short speeches to news anchors, Elizabeth examined the people standing around them. Someone caught her eye.

He was a man with high cheekbones and a rather pale face; longish, soft-looking black hair gently falling into his equally black eyes. He wore clothes that looked rather depleted, and... And then she noticed the briefcase. The fine, obviously hand-crafted Italian leather briefcase that looked so out of place in his bony hand, brushing against the ragged leg of his jeans. He narrowed his eyes at her, as if daring her to do something, and then turned around and marched off with all the authority of a king.

_Something's amok,_ she thought to herself. _With the way he's dressed, I honestly doubt that he could afford such a thing as that case. Which means someone gave it to him..._

Elizabeth carefully looked behind her, where her father was wrapped up in another one of his grand declarations. Then, being the adventurous girl that she was, and without so much as acknowledgement from any of the surrounding people, she slipped away from the crowd and followed the curious man.

_-=-_

She followed him for a good seven streets before she began to grow weary. The sound of her high-heels clipping against the sidewalk gradually slowed, and she resumed a sluggish, almost elderly, pace. It disturbed her slightly that as she adjusted to her lagging pace, so did the man she was following. More than ever, she wondered what on earth was going on.

_He could be some kind of hitman for the mafia,_ she said to herself, imaginative notions filling her head rapidly. _He could be a dangerous felon who broke out of jail to..._

But with that thought, Elizabeth stopped, facing the back wall of a dead end alley. The victim of her stalking had somehow managed to vanish right in front of her. She sighed, defeated, when she felt something move behind her. The hair on the back of her neck rose.

Without warning, she spun around and backed into the wall, staring into the murky eyes of her target. 

"I hate to seem suspicious," he said, taking a small step closer to her and setting the briefcase down beside him. A breeze stirred, blowing his scent towards her nostrils. He smelled like some sort of alcoholic beverage and cigarettes, much to Elizabeth's dismay -- she had never really liked ... _dirtier_ smells. "but have you been following me?"

"Me?" she squeaked, her heart pounding viciously in her chest. "Following... you? Where do you get an absurd idea like... that...?"

But as she tried desperately to lie, she knew it was of no use. His crooked grin coupled with the obvious amusement in his eyes told her that she wasn't going to pull anything off whilst in his company. 

"Alright," she sighed, feeling overcome with quite a few emotions. "_alriiiiight_, alright. I was following you." Here the man's smirk broke into a wide, leering smile, "but only because you looked so _blasted_ suspicious with that _stupid_ briefcase." A new thought suddenly leapt into her head: "You're... not going to hurt me, are you?"

He chuckled, and stepped towards her yet again, that _awful_ countenance still plastered to his face. "Well, you are one sexy little muffin," -- here he waggled his eyebrows -- "but I'm afraid I'll have to decline your wonderfully thoughtful offer."

"Wha - _that_ - ! _That wasn't an **offer**_!" she exclaimed, feeling very angry and very unlucky to be in such a situation with a character she didn't know, but the man just ignored her.

"Well, I've really got to be going, luv," he said, shrugging his shoulders with indifference. "have a _charming_ afternoon."

He picked up his briefcase, spun on the heel of his shoe and began swaggering off in the direction of the street connecting to the dead-end, but before he could get five feet away, Elizabeth Swann once again opened her mouth.

"What's in your briefcase?"

He turned right back and gave her the most menacing scowl in the world. "None of your bloody business." he ground out, looking very ready to spit nails if the need arose.

"I'm not sure if you know," she said, trying very hard to glare right back at him. "but I'm Elizabeth _Swann_. If you leave without telling me, I'll report you to the police with accusations of _very indecent behavior_, if you catch my meaning."

He put that evil grin into play again. "If you _must_ know," he said, the tone of his voice oozing mockery. "In this briefcase I have stored fifty-thousand dollars. But now that you know, _darling_, I'm afraid I can't just leave you around to spread the word."

He reached into the pocket of his shabby jacked and pulled out, much to Elizabeth's horror, a gleaming silver pistol.

_-=-_

**Diana:** Well, I'm glad that you didn't find corniness and cliches! I would have been very sad then. Thanks so much for reviewing, and I hope this is as good as the first chapter!

**rythmteck:** Thanks for reviewing, it really means a lot. Anyway, your review was so nice and full of compliments! And I'm so glad you loved it! *laughs evilly* I love writing PotC. I should do this more often!

**Kez.M:** Well... thank you for the review and for my very first threat review! Ever! And what violent incentive it was... *smiles happily*

**Thanks for reading, everyone! Next chapter either tomorrow or the day after!**


	3. There She Goes

**Disclaimer:** Hey there, this is Walt Disney, risen from the grave! Isn't that super?! Well anyway, I just wanted to let y'all know that I'm handing the summer blockbuster, _Pirates of the Caribbean_, over to Mrs. Niles Crane here... (Yeah, maybe in Bizarro World. I own nothing!)

**A/N:** Wow. Eight reviews, and _really_ fast! How exciting! Oh, by the way... dillon mentioned that black pudding is congealed pigs blood. Well, although I think that's just SICK, Jack's an odd lad. He can like black pudding. Another quick note: If you've seen _Benny & Joon_, Jack's hair looks like Sam's. 

_-=-_

Everyone in the world has at least one pet peeve. For some, it's when people driving in traffic don't put on their blinker, but turn the corner anyway. For others, it's when people chew with their mouth open. Jack Sparrow had two, on this occasion: Snobs, and nosies (as he liked to call the busybodies of the day). This Swann lass happened to be a very extreme ammount of both, which nearly drove poor Jack to tear out his hair and scream. However, rather than ruin hair so lovely as his, getting rid of the problem seemed like a much better solution.

Which is why he was now pointing his trusty silver pistol at the girl's face.

"Wait," she exclaimed suddenly, throwing her tremoring hands up in the air. "You can't shoot me! I don't even know you're name!" 

Jack lowered his gun, took a step back, and stared at her. _What kind of mental fool..._ he thought. _would try something as **stupid** as that?_ But as he continued to stare at her, the look on her face only grew more and more serious. The bleeding of Jack's heart began. 

"Oh... _damn_ you." he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand and re-pocketing the pistol with the other.

"..._What_...?" she asked. Her eyes were still large with fright, although she had lowered her hands. 

"Well, I can't _possibly_ shoot you now!" Jack shouted, glaring. "I was in perfect shooting stance, I was all aimed up, and _now_, because of you and your _stupid_ you-ness, I've lost my focus!"

She stared at him, as though he were slightly deranged (which happened to be what she was thinking at that moment). "Er..." she said. "...couldn't you shoot me anyway?"

Jack felt his frustration intensify at this so-called "obvious" solution. "No!" he replied, marching towards her and grabbing her shoulders, shaking her violently between each word. "That's. The. _Thing_. I. Can't. Without. Focus. And. You've. Gone. And. Obliterated. Mine. Savvy?"

"Oh..."

"Bloody woman,"

She folded her arms and glared at him, "Well _excuse me_," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I didn't know it was against the law to plea for my life."

He cocked an eyebrow, amazed at her stupidity. "It's not exactly _smart_ to get cute with an attacker," he said. 

She raised an eyebrow as well, clearly mocking him, looked around the alley. "I'm sorry,", she said, in a tone of faux innocence. "but I don't seem to see an attacker anywhere."

That was the last straw. Jack could handle her annoying superiority complex, her determination to get her way, but her _insolence_ was another story entirely. He hated insolence even more than he hated stuffy rich people, nosies, and left-handed scissors (which he always seemed to purchase on accident). No _woman_ was going to give _Captain Jack Sparrow_ that attitude.

Sighing dramatically, he turned and pinched her jugular vein, bringing about her unconciousness and allowing him to lift her over his shoulder and carry her back to his flat. He told passersby that she was his rather ill cousin.

_-=-_

Meanwhile, Thomas Swann had just realized his daughter was missing, and was a complete blabbering mess. All the newscrews were alerting TV viewers of Elizabeth's sudden absence, and the police had just arrived.

Sergeant James Norrington climbed out of his squad car, a grim look on his face. Following him, with more than resignation, was Norrington's secretary-cum-assistant, William Turner. Will was a young, muscular lad with quite a bit going for him in the looks department (far more than his boss had, anyway). He carried with him a spiral-notebook and a pale blue gel-pen, ready to take notes whenever Norrington spoke... which wasn't really that often. Jamesie wasn't the wordiets bloke around.

"Mr. Swann," said Norrington, his deep voice silencing most of the people around. "you called to report a missing person...?"

"Missing person?" said Will, fascinated. "_Really_? How interesting. What's this character's name, then?"

"It's my daughter, Elizabeth," Thomas replied, staring straight ahead in some strange state of shock.

At this, Norrington and Will both bowed their heads, as though giving their respects to the dead. You see, both men were slightly infatuated with Miss Swann... And had she been there to see that, she would revel in the fact.

After their brief pause, Norrington spoke up again: "We'll do our best to find her, Mr. Swann. Now, where and when was she last seen?"

Will began to scribble feverishly as people reported the last time they had seen Elizabeth. Needless to say, this was the most important case he had ever worked on.

_-=-_

Jack reached his flat with immense gratitude, throwing open the door and dropping Lizzie on the bed with a groan. The looks he was getting from people, not to mention the constant fear that she would regain consciousness, had been eating away at his nerves, and he was very happy to be home for a change.

He turned back to the front door and shut it, fixing the seventeen padlocks down the side of the door so that no one could ever get in. After finding a bottle of vodka and the remote control, he turned on the telly, entertaining himself with cartoons. Every few minutes, however, he would glance at the girl on his bed, her body only moving when she inhaled and exhaled, and sigh. 

_I wonder what made me bring her home,_ he thought to himself. _I wonder what stopped me from shooting her on the street when I first realized she was stalking me._

If he had been watching Channel 13 News, he wouldn't have been worrying about the possibility he was weakening. He would have been worried about what he was going to do to escape the kidnapping charge that was looming over him without his knowing it.

_-=-_

**Flamingo Feathers:** Hey, thanks! I hope you continue reading!

**dillon:** Thanks for telling me about the black pudding... You see, I'm not even _near_ being European, have absolutely no clue about food in the UK except fish and chips, and I really didn't want to come off as some sort of stereotype-writing-person. Thanks for reviewing!

**...:** Thanks! I hope you enjoyed this as well!

**ScannerCatScat:** Thanks! And here was the introduction of Will -- and Norrington!

**rythmteck:** FF.net wasn't showing all my reviews, so this wasn't in the original post of chapter 3... Anyway. I'm glad you liked Jack! He's really fun to write... And thanks for reviewing! *laughs evilly once again*

**WCSPegasus:** Yeah... ff.net was being beasty and wasn't showing all my reviews, so I really didn't know that you reviewed! Anyway, thank you. I just love kind reviews! 


	4. Home Movies

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. What a surprise.

**A/N:** I have 16 reviews for one story that's three chapters long! Cool! Also, I just wanted to mention that somewhere ahead there will be a Jack/Elizabeth drunken thingy. Once again, author thanks at the bottom. Pre-At-The-Bottom thanks to rythmteck, who gave me the laugh of a lifetime the other morning. 

_-=-_

So far, there hadn't been any major developements in the Swann case. The last man to have claimed to see her, Mr. Hayden Jeffries, said he saw her flung over the shoulder of a rather gruff-looking gent with a briefcase. However, that scenario was debatable, due to the fact that Mr. Jeffries was nearing ninety-seven years in age and was nearly as blind as he was wrinkly. But Will and Norrington were not giving up hope. In fact, they were in a constant battle searching for clues, hoping to be the one that would be labeled mostly-responsible for rescuing Elizabeth.

Much to Norrington's annoyance, Will was winning.

"I've just got off the phone with a Rachel Finney," he said one morning, handing Norrington a clipboard with all sorts of things scribbled on them. As he read, he tried to ignore the fact that everything was written in shiny blue gel-pen. "She says she saw Miss Swann near some little bookshop called Barry & Dunn."

"Did Miss Finney say whether or not the victim was alone?" 

Will sighed, and looked down at a piece of paper on his desk, reading carefully. "Er.... alone." he said. "However, I don't think any of these people reporting that she was alone were the last to see her. I think," he continued, furrowing his eyebrows. "that she was kidnapped, because it seems very illogical that she wander off."

Norrington nodded, and headed towards his office. But before he pushed open the door, he turned back to the man sitting at the secretary desk. "Tell me, Turner," he said. "how is it you never became a police officer?"

Will smiled wryly. "To be honest," he said, pulling his gel-pen from behind his ear and beginning to write other things down. "I can't really stand the sight of blood."

_-=-_

Over in one of the more depressing areas of London, the girl everyone was now searching for opened her eyes to a very frightening sight. There was a man standing over her -- a man she did not recognize. He had small, watery eyes and a rather large face. All in all, a very disturbing sight. He smiled crookedly at her, and then straightened, turning to face someone at the other side of the room.

"How'd yeh pick up a lass like this, Cap'n?" he said in a gravelly voice.

"Well, Gibbs," came the reply, the sauntering intonation of Elizabeth's kidnapper. "it was my original intention to kill her, but she's just too _pretty_..."

At this, she sat up, startling the man called Gibbs and another person in the room who had, so far, not spoken. He was holding a cardboard box that contained film reels, and was wearing the uniform of a well-known theatre. He appeared to be rather elderly... or maybe just weathered. Elizabeth spent a few moments looking between the two men in surprise, and then averted her gaze to someone else...

In the corner, standing next to a large closet, was the "Captain", looking very smug. "Lizzie," he said, gesturing madly with his hands. "this is Gibbs, and that over there is Lewis, although we call him Cotton."

"Er... hello." she said quietly, the quiver in her voice making the greeting nearly incomprehensible. "I'm... El...izabeth Sw... Swann."

Gibbs continued grinning, and Cotton nodded, setting the box down on a small coffee table. Captain gave them a conspiritorial wink, and began gesturing towards the door. "Well, gents, I think it's time for you to go... must get back to work and all that. Thank you for making sure your cargo arrived safely, and I shall see you next week."

"Evening, Cap'n." said Gibbs, stalking towards the door and giving a little wave to Elizabeth.

Cotton nodded again, and followed.

_-=-_

"Why do they call you 'Captain'?"

The question was so timid that Jack barely heard it, and when he registered in his mind what she was asking, he was completely taken aback. _Why do they call me '**Captain**'?_ he thought. _Because I'm the bloody Captain!_ But then again, _she_ didn't know there was anything for him to be captain _of_... Puzzling little problem, this.

He turned to her, raised a finger, and opened his mouth. Much to his surprise, nothing came out. He tried again........... nothing. This was very strange to Jack. Whenever he had been in a rut, his mouth had _always_ seemed to get him out of it. And now, _now_ of _all_ times, it had decided to stop working on him. He furrowed his eyebrows and thought, Lizzie still staring at him with those large brown eyes of hers.

"Well," he began, scratching his goatee in contemplation. "It's more of a... term of endearment than a title."

She continued to stare at him, and this time raised an eyebrow. "So those two are your ...?"

"Very dear friends," Jack finished for her, picking up the box of film reels, "although they've been like very distant cousins to me for years. Now," he gave her a look, and her eyebrow made a hasty decent, "after I put this away I'm going to have a bottle of rum or two. Do you have any more questions, because I'm generally not to be trusted whilst stoned."

"What's in the box?" 

This time it was he that raised an eyebrow. "What's with all the fool questions, eh? Any _child_ could tell that these are _films_." He snickered to himself.

"Then what are the films _of_?" She cocked her head to the side, her hair tilting slightly at the angle.

Jack stared at her, as though she were an idiot. "Home movies." he said simply, and then pushed through the door into his office, making sure to close it behind him. Of course, the films had labels like **Jack, Gran and Grandfather at the beach**, but everything would come to and end if someone outside the organization found out what these actually were. He began stashing them everywhere -- under the desk, behind the books in the small shelf that ran across the room... A minute later, he emerged, heading straight for the kitchen, where he rummaged around for his favorite brand of rum.

"May I at least have your first name?" The question came from the living room/bedroom, and Lizzie sounded very agitated... He smiled to himself. Over the years he had found that women were the most fun when upset.

"Not comfortable with callin' me 'Captain'?, Lizzie?" he replied, prying the lid off of a bottle of *_Captain Morgan's_.

Silence.

"Fine." he muttered. "my name's Jack. _Happy_?"

This time, she didn't sound nearly as unnerved, "Jack, where's the remote? And could you bring me something to eat -- I'm famished."

_-=-_

**Flamingo Feathers:** Thanks! And as for Will being Norrington's assistant... I couldn't think of any other way to tie him into the story. Jack will only get weirder. ;)

**remnants-2011:** Thanks! I really appreciate your review. 

**andyeascrewyou:** (Wow, what an interesting name!) Thanks, and I thought it would be interesting if everyone were modern. 

**rythmteck:** I'm glad you liked that part. It was soooooo much fun to write! And it did seem in character, although I didn't notice until you pointed it out to me. I went to see PotC two days ago, but it was only for the sixth time... The beautiful thing about theatres around here is that they keep the movies that are making TONS, even after they're supposed to go out, and then once they've gone out they go to the dollar theatre. 

**Neo-digi:** Thanks! I'm glad you reviewed!

**Emma** Wow! My story kicks butt! How neat. *grins stupidly, thrown off-guard by intense compliments* Thanks for reviewing!

*_Captain Morgan's_ is actually a real drink. When I was moving I borrowed some used boxes from some stores, and there are now several boxes for that brand of alcohol sitting in my garage. I couldn't remember if it was rum or whisky, and since I didn't want to get up and look, I just made it rum. 


	5. The Nosy

**Disclaimer:** _Still_ not mine.

**A/N:** Holy cheese-whiz... Thanks for all the reviews! By the by, this chapter is dedicated to a reviewer called "Abadon 666", who made me giggle uproariously.

_-=-_

Three days later, Norrington and Will were sitting in the police station with their hopes still high, despite the fact that no one had reported seeing Elizabeth Swann since Miss Finney had called. Will was doing paperwork, and Norrington taking several phone calls about a certain vandalization act that was being enacted around Drury Lane. Neither were aware that another phone line had just lit up, the bulb of the button being rather dim and hard to see under the buzzing lights. 

In downtown London, Lucinda Torrence was swearing, begging for _someone_ to pick up the phone -- because the girl she was seeing in a window across the street couldn't be anyone other than Thomas Swann's daughter.

_-=-_

Jack and Elizabeth were, so far, getting along just fine. Of course, she was still kidnapped and she didn't think fondly of him for that, but he was a decent enough fellow when he was sober enough to consider manners. Other than that, she had been informed that as long as she ignored the telephone when it rang, stayed away from what he deemed his "office", and only drank _her_ rations of the liquor, she would be safe. He didn't seem to care if she did anything else, which was a strange feeling. She was so used to being controlled and guarded...

This afternoon, she was in a very relaxed mood: her legs draped over one armrest of an easy-chair in front of the telly, still wearing the clothes she had been in when she arrived at this strange place. At the moment, she was watching some sort of talkshow, where they were discussing the problems faced by men who had engaged in extramarital relations with their father-in-law's sister's daughters. A slim curl of hair was hanging in her face, making her look the most disheveled she could ever remember being. Jack was in his office.

_Three and a half days,_ she thought, _and I'm already behaving improperly, just because **he** says it's alright. Maybe I'm developing that complex where people sympathize with criminals: Always being hunted down and forced into unpleasant things..._

Just seconds after she considered this, the doorbell rang, tearing her away from the story of Oliver and Moira. Elizabeth was unsure of what to do -- after all, this was neither her house nor the house of a relative -- it could look very suspicious. However, before she could debate this any further, Jack -- undoubtedly drawn from his isolation by an odd psychic phenomenon that had planted itself in his brain -- leapt from the confines of his closet, looking slightly panicked. 

Without a word, he yanked her from the armchair and threw her haphazardly into the bathroom, where she fell to the floor in disarray. She knew what was going on, of course. She was to be hidden so that Jack wasn't arrested. Unfortunately for her captor, Elizabeth had a wicked sense of humor when the opportune moment arrived.

_-=-_

Jack answered the door with no large amount of ease, sliding wildly on the faux-wood in front of the door and turning the knob with sweaty palms. He was faced with the most horrifying of people -- a rather elderly woman with unbelievably red hair for her age. She wore large aviator-style glasses and dress-up jewelry over a very green nightie... He knew the type the moment he saw her: This was a Nosy.

"Hello," Jack said with a grimace, trying not to let his annoyance at being faced with such an obnoxious creature show. "eh... may I... _help_ you?"

"Mr. Sparrow?" said the woman, her voice a deep Scottish vabrato. 

"..._Yeeesss_..."

"My name is Lucinda Torrence, Mr. Sparrow, and I was wondering if you had a girl in this flat with you?"

Jack stared at her, furrowing his eybrows. "No... I don't believe I do." This Nosy, however, didn't seem to be buying into that.

"Are you absolutely _positive_?" 

Then, from the area of the back, where the bedroom and the bathroom were situated, came a fairly cheerful call: "Jack, you rogue, what _have_ you done with my clothes?!"

The Nosy's jaw dropped, along with several of her chins, and Jack paled. "Um." he added. "Eh... well, actually I do. Her name's... ehm... Daphne. Really great lass -- graduated Cambridge last year."

"I'm sure." said the Nosy, and she turned on the heel of her pink bunny slippers and left. Jack closed the door, grinding his teeth together. 

"Lizzie, _darling_," he muttered to himself. "you're _really_ going to get it now."

As she laughed herself into hysterics back in the bathroom, Jack picked up the telephone and dialed up Gibbs. "Gibbsie," he said quietly. "yes... yes, excellent quality films. Now, I need two of your finest forgeries... yes, driver's license as well... er... Clyde Whitaker. ...How old do I look when I shave, then? Right, twenty-seven ought to do it -- any birthdate you want, you know the rest. Nextly, Daphne Whitaker, probably about twenty... blonde... brown. Yes, I'm sure. About five-five... 130. Yes. No. No, I've got the bands already. Yes. Thanks, Gibbsie. Where are we going?" He paused, giving the question much consideration.

"Actually, the Caribbean. Tomorrow, so if you could get those to me by tonight..."

_-=-_

Ten minutes after Lucinda Torrence left the step of Jack Sparrow's flat, she returned to her quest of phoning the police. However, it wasn't until around eleven that night that the telephone rang, yet again, and the police station. Will sat up immediately, reaching for the receiver. This had to be it...

"Police," he said, "this is Will Turner speaking. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"I think I've just found Elizabeth Swann," said the caller, in a feminine, although low, voice. 

Will grabbed his blue gel-pen and grinned, fluttering around to try and find a blank sheet of paper. "That's excellent, ma'am!" he said, giving his excitement away entirely. "Could you please give me your name and address, and we will get people there as soon as possible."

Hearing the commotion, Norrington stepped outside his office, an eyebrow cocked and a cup of coffee clutched tightly in his fist. Once the phone call had been ended, Turner beamed. "What was that about?" the elder of the two asked, looking surly and skeptical -- as usual.

"You'll never believe this," said Turner, his voice cracking with glee. "but I think we've found her."

_-=-_

**XxSablexX:** Thanks! And I did look at your stories, but I'll have to read them when I have more time. I'm being kept very busy as of late... *sigh*

**Elf and Tonic:** Sorry, no smut. I don't do that because I like everyone to be able to read my stories, and I'd feel bad if some little kid were reading this and had to hit the back button. But thanks for your review!

**POTC obsessor:** Thanks! And yes, there will be Jack/Elizabeth, there will be rum, and maybe you'll find out about Jack shooting Lizzie later... bwahahaha.

**KawaiiRyu:** Thanks! And I'm glad you like Will... not many of the Will-fangirls do, I think. Oh well. I see him as a bit of a nitwit. And yes, Jack is Jack. It would be oh-so-sad if he weren't.

**Liz:** Thank you! And Norrington and Will... yes. It's the Odd Couple for swooning teenage girls, in a way. 

**bboarding323:** Thanks! And perhaps I will have Jack the Monkey make an appearance... That would be very interesting. *grins*

**Tazmanian Devil:** Wow, I was right! How cool! I'll have to try and find the song. Thanks for reviewing! *winks*

**Pirate:** Thanks! That's so cool that you and your friends have nicknames! I wish my friends were that obsessed... *sighs*

**hpdancer92:** Thanks! I love your name -- very cool! I'm glad you reviewed!

**SnowWhiteMuse:** There's more now! And of course you adore Jack! Who doesn't? *giggles like an idiot* I'm glad you like the gel-pen, and thanks for recommending this!

**Thanks, also, to everyone who reviewed chapter 1!**


	6. Where Have All The People Gone?

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. I bet you didn't see that one coming, eh? *rolls eyes*

**A/N:** Okay. For some annoying reason, ff.net isn't showing me all of my reviews when I get them. It's deciding to be coy and give them to me _after_ I post a chapter and have already missed reviewers in an Author's Thanks thing. For this, I must apologize if I miss you at any time. Author's Thanks (hopefully _all_ of them) at the bottom. 

_-=-_

Before the story continues any further, I suppose one might want to be informed of the physical changes Jack enforced upon both he and Elizabeth before they left for their local department store to buy the latter of the two some clothes. He shaved his goatee, seemingly decreasing his age by around ten years, and cleaned himself up considerably. He now had the aura of sensible relaxation, although he kept the same self-assured attitude he had had since the beginning.

Elizabeth was a different story. Naturally, she had been unwilling to do _anything_ to aid Jack in his escape from the law. The protests that came flying out of her mouth had the sound of,

"Why should I do this? You're the lawbreaker! _You_ should take responsibility for your actions!" Jack's answer had been this,

"Luv... let us remember which one of us has the _weaponry_, shall we?"

And so, Jack had belted her down to a stool and cut her hair to a ragged shoulder-length, her bangs now hung in her eyes rather shaggily; he had coated her eyes with sparkly liner; carefully applied high-light and low-light make up to her cheekbones, giving them a slightly sunken look; and gave her a silvery pair of rectangular glasses. 

Gibbs had taken out a Polaroid camera and snapped each of them seperately, carefully sliding the result pictures under the image window in their passports and IDs, then laminating them with an intriguing little machine he had found in his closet. When Jack and Elizabeth stood next to each other -- he in his baggy jeans and tight t-shirt, and she in the near same -- they left all traces of themselves behind. _They_ no longer existed, and their places were now filled by Clyde and Daphne Whitaker.

_-=-_

From the department store they were going straight to the airport to catch the first possible flight out of England. Gibbs had been intstructed to house-keep, so to speak, and was taking very large advantage of the fact. While Jack had brought his laptop with him, he had failed to pack all of the _Captain Morgan's_... Which was unfortunate for Jack but very fortunate for his housekeeper. 

  
However, Norrington and Will were storming up the fire-escape that lead to the apartment, Mrs. Torrence in tow, for what was to be the discovery of Elizabeth Swann in Jack Sparrow's quarters, at about the same time Gibbs was taking a box of biscuits out of the cupboard and helping himself to the thirt bottle of rum. They did not know, however, that their appearance at the door was untimely.

They stood outside in the damp night, Norrington rapping on the door impatiently. Mrs. Torrence was shivering. Will was making notes about the surroundings by flashlight with his shiny blue gel-pen. Norrington kept knocking.

"_Unbelievable!_" Will muttered to himself, sighing.

Norrington turned his head to peer around. "Yes... the place is rather filthy, isn't it?" he commented, shaking his head.

Will gave him a funny look, "I ... I meant that the nutter in there couldn't recognize the Police Knock and wasn't out here before you got that exasperated look on your face, because that look means trouble, and he doesn't want any of _your_ trouble..."

Norrington closed his eyes, taking a very, _very_ deep breath. "Turner," he said, "there is _no_ Police Knock. Everyone was against that when you proposed it at our last meeting."

"Oh... oh yeah, I remember..."

"Could you two just.... bust the door down or something!?" shouted an annoyed (and cold) Mrs. Torrence. "You two stand around without taking any action -- just kick the door down!"

Will gave her a horrified look. "_That_," he said, as though explaining something to either a very small child or an incredibly dimwitted adult, "would be breaking and entering, Ma'am."

Finally, someone came and answered the door: A piggish-looking man with a bottle of spirits clutched tightly in one fist and the remote control to a TV in the other. Back further in the living room, an action movie was blaring over some very worn-out speakers.

"What?" he asked, brutishly.

Mrs. Torrence stepped forward, startling both Norrington and Will. "This is Sergeant Norrington and this is... William Turner, from the police. Would you please fetch Mr. Jack Sparrow for investigation?"

The man laughed, and pulled out a driver's license. "I _am_ Mr. Jack Sparrow, Madam, and I don't think there be any need to investigate me... yet."

Norrington took the little card and examined it carefully. Sure enough, the picture, name, and information all matched. He handed it back with a look at Mrs. Torrence. "I thought you said you'd spoken to this man, Ma'am... Can you not recognize him?"

"This isn't the man!" Mrs. Torrence yelped. "I swear! He must be covering for the _real_ Sparrow... He's probably hiding in the back room!"

"By all means, step inside," said the man who appeared to be Jack Sparrow. "you won't find a bloody thing to convic' me of anything criminal." 

They entered, and examined, and found nothing incriminating.

As they left, Norrington turned to Mrs. Torrence with a ragged sigh. "Ma'am," he said. "I do appreciate what you were trying to do, but you are getting on in years and if I were you I'd start looking into a home."

_-=-_

The flight to the Caribbean was long, but relatively uneventful, and Elizabeth was desperately happy to finally reach the ground, get in a taxi, get to the hotel and go straight to sleep. But she couldn't help feeling so awkward, becoming an entirely different person. She felt strange, like a freak of nature. Jack, however, seemed quite fine with everything, and was positive that everything would be perfect. Definitely, no questions about it, _flawless_. Who wouldn't believe that they were a honeymooning couple?

"This is absolutely ridiculous." Elizabeth muttered as they entered the hotel, trying her hardest to ignore the small amount of warmth that radiated from Jack's fingers interlaced with hers. The gold ring around her finger was starting to unnerve her as well. She didn't like the idea of being married to this particular character, even though their marriage license was as fake as the identifications in their wallets. She pushed her glasses further up her nose as they continued to walk.

"No one will believe this, J---" he gave her a look, "eh... _Clyde_. No one is going to fall for this completely idiotic façade."

"The beautiful thing about idiotic façades, dear," he whispered back, a rather self-satisfied smirk on his face, "is that it takes an idiot to fall for one. Fortunately for me, most of the world is filled with them."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "You're _awful_."

"I know."

The act began as they approached the front desk -- they stood closer together and beamed, each turning every few seconds just to smile at the other. It was an exact picture of a newlywed couple on their honeymoon: the excitement and sheer happiness. At least, that's what the concierge thought. But of course, no one is right _all_ the time. 

"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully. "I expect you have a reservation...?"

"Mr. and _Mrs._ Whitaker," Jack said proudly. Elizabeth giggled, feeling extremely stupid. _This is bonkers -- expecting this will actually **work**..._ she thought to herself. _He's going to suspect something's up..._

But apparently, the concierge didn't think he had any reason to suspect anything. Instead, he grinned right back at them and said, "Honeymooners?"

Jack and Elizabeth looked at each other once again before bursting out with fake laughter -- nodding as though they were incapable of much speech. With that, they were handed a room key and the bellboy was rung up to show them to their room.

_-=-_

**hpdancer92:** Thanks! And yeah I think your name's cool! It's groove-tacular. *winks cheesily -- like in those Betty Boop cartoons*

**Elf and Tonic:** Hey... just because there's no smut doesn't mean they get to have all kinds of fun. I know it's probably not as amusing for you as it could be, but I'm trying here! *gives Elf and Tonic the hopeful look of a little puppy* 

**KawaiiRyu:** Yes, trust in Jack... *smiles at the thought of Jack!pennies* I hope you enjoy their stay in the Caribbean as much as I... I mean... _they_ will.

**Pirate:** Thanks! And yeah... I have Harry Potter fevah. My friends all think I'm (and this is a direct quote here) "PSY-CHO!"... Oh well. It's their own faults if they can't see a good thing when it's right there. Like Captain Sparrow... None of my friends like him either... *puzzles*

**rythmteck (from chapter4 review):** Sorry I missed you! Anyway, glad you like it. And I will certainly go write more if you shall do the same. *wink* And don't worry -- I want me to read your fic, too. :o) 


	7. Welcome to the Caribbean

**Disclaimer:** Don't ask, because you already know the answer.

**A/N:** Another chapter, fresh off of... uh... the clothesline in my mind, I guess. Dedicated to the artists I listened to whilst writing this chapter. Namely: The Goo Goo Dolls, Weezer, Matchbox Twenty, The Knack, and Elvis Costello/The Attractions.

_-=-_

Will Turner didn't trust the proclaimed Jack Sparrow. It wasn't that he didn't think he was telling the truth about his identity, but more that he was sure that Mr. Sparrow _knew_ where Mrs. Torrence's Mr. Sparrow was, and where he and Elizabeth Swann might be. Of course, Will wasn't educated in the theories of police thinking, as he was a mere secretary, but he did know that when a man was ready and willing to let you search his flat, something was wrong.

Even if there was nothing that the supposed Mr. Sparrow was hiding, it seemed strange to let people he didn't know poke around. Will himself wouldn't do it, even if the only thing he didn't want them finding was the fact that he had My Little Ponies collected in his room... but those had been a present from his Gran, and they were nothing to be ashamed of, anyway. Ponies grew up to be horses, and horses were very masculine...

As Will thought these things, stirring sugar into his morning cup of tea, he decided he might just have to visit the first Mr. Sparrow again...

Without Norrington.

_-=-_

It had been a very long day for the "newlyweds". Jack had introduced Lizzie to the warm air, burning sun, and gorgeous beach that morning, exclaiming cheerfully: "Welcome to the Caribbean, darling!"

It had been a day filled with swimming, shopping, general tourist activities, and acting. Of course, Jack was very grateful to return to their room that evening, settling himself on the balcony with a cigarette.. a few moments away from his companion. Although he didn't like to contemplate things much, Jack found the evening a good time for thinking. Mostly thinking about nothing at all, but that still qualified as thinking, seeing as how one needed to think to stay alive, and breathing, and all that other business. 

So he stood. And thought. And thought and thought, until he had convinced himself that there was no more real thinking to be done, and he just stood. It was silent except for the puffs of smoke that came out of his mouth every few seconds.

_It's a very odd thing, being a pirate._ he said to himself. _It's one of those I'll-Tell-You-But-Then-I'll-Have-To-Kill-You businesses... Can't very well have everyone knowing that whilst you live in dreary flat, you vacation in Majorca at least twice a year. _ He sighed, taking a very long drag on his cigarette and blowing the smoke out in little rings. 

_...But this cloak-and-dagger game is terribly amusing._

After a few more minutes, he sighed again, thinking he might go raid the minibar in search of his favorite rum. However, he was met at the balcony door by Lizzie, who was looking as though she were in the middle of a horrible nightmare. 

"There's one bed, Jack." she said. "There's _one_ bloody bed. At least at your place there was a sofa, but... Please, _please_ tell me you don't expect us to share that!"

He stared at her, still smoking, and stroked his chin in imitation of deep thought. He wanted to see how far he could push her before she snapped... "Well, Liz dearest, I don't really think there's any other way to do this..."

Her eyes widened in horror. "..._What?_"

"One of us will have to sleep in the bath."

"What do you _mean_, one of us will... oh." She smiled weakly. "Oh... Well, alright then... er... I'll go make you a bed up, shall I?" Lizzie turned and began walking back into the room, but Jack grabbed her shoulder and turned her around.

"What makes you think _you're_ getting the bed?" he asked. 

"Well... I -- I just..."

"It'll be much easier for you to sneak away in the middle of the night if you're in the bed," he stated, smirking. "So I'd be getting to making your own bed, if I were you."

She stared up at him with narrowed eyes, as though unsure of what to say. Finally she ground out, "I hate you."

He chuckled, and blew smoke into her face. "Get used to it."

_-=-_

Elizabeth glared up at the ceiling of the bathroom, using all of her remaining energy to hate Jack. _Why did you even come with him?_ she asked herself angrily. _You could have kicked him in the groin and... jumped out the window or something. You could have at least **tried** to resist with something better than an argument..._

**But maybe I was _supposed_ to come...** she contradicted herself, the beginnings of mental warfare. **Maybe this was my ticket out of the stuffy upper-class life, and into Adventure. It certainly is a pleasant change from going to Daddy's political meetings every day and hobnobbing with the unbearably dull children of unbearably dull associates. _Maybe_ Jack is saving my sanity.**

_And **maybe** there's nothing left of it to save,_ the first voice in her head replied. _Now at least try to get some sleep._

And she did.

_-=-_

As Lizzie was laying in the bath tub, bickering with herself, Jack had hooked his laptop and was presently checking his e-mail. There were, of course, many notes of gratitude from various people all over the world, thanking him for making sure his films had such good quality, and that they were free of strange foreign subtitles... that kind of thing. But after sifting through all the thank-yous, he opened something that was much more interesting:

_Sir,_ it began.

_ I am writing on behalf of Daniel Dakota, who has discovered that you are making his songs available on your website for filesharing. Mr. Dakota doesn't want any trouble, and is ready to negotiate a settlement with you if you find that agreeable. Reply to this e-mail with a date, time and place you would like to meet. You can be assured that both Mr. Dakota and I shall be there._

Vern Williams  
President of Toxic Records

"Well isn't that lovely," Jack said, smiling. "I've just made at least thirty-thousand dollars."

_-=-_

**A/N 2:** Sorry this chapter is so flippin' short... I just needed to get this part out of the way. But the rest shall be longer. I promise.

**WolviesLover:** Thanks! And yes, there will definitely be some Jack/Liz. After all, the girl is _partially_ sane. (hee hee)

**rythmteck:** Glad to know you're laughing! But if your spleen is going to split and keep you from writing, maybe I should calm it down a bit... *grins* Or not. 

**KawaiiRyu:** You're very right. She _is_ glad to get away, as hopefully demonstrated in this chapter. Anywhoo, thanks for reviewing! And thanks for your lovely compliments!

**Elf and Tonic:** Thanks! And Will is a weirdo. But that's what makes him fun to write! *giggles*

**JSWitch:** Thanks Mimi! I love PotC too, as you can probably tell... Peace out!

**Pirate:** Haha! Glad you liked MadlyInLove!Jack and Lizzie. And yeah, I'm making fun of Will. But he's just so _easy_ to mock... And I tried to review your Edward Scissorhands fic, but I'm not sure if it let me. This thing came up that said PROXY ERROR... so... And no, my friends don't like Jack. Because they're all STUPID when it comes to guys. 

**eva:** Thanks! And yeah, the Elizabeth/Kidnapped contemplation will come up soon, but right now she's got other things to think about.

**hpdancer92:** Thanks! And I'm glad speediness makes you happy, because I'm trying really hard to be speedy! Of course, I can't compete with rythmteck, who tends to do one chapter of waaaaaay over 2,000 words a day... 

**PirateWannabe:** Thanks! And I am delighted that people enjoy that gel-pen so much! Maybe I'll start a spinoff story about the gel-pen... I tend to do weird things like that. But anyway... 


	8. Foiled and Drunk

**Disclaimer:** Nope.

**A/N:** This chapter dedicated to Will's blue gel-pen, because everyone loves him so.

_-=-_

"Mr. _Spaaaaaaaaaaarrow..._ Are you home?" Will hollered, pounding on the door he stood outside with immense excitement. He paused his knocking, and listened for a moment. There were the sounds of a machine gun, and then someone shouted through the door:

"Come off it and go home, bloody idiot!"

Of course, Will was used to this kind of treatment -- mostly from Norrington when he was in one of his "moods", and occasionally bystanders who found him, for some unknown reason, annoying. But Will never gave up. He was here to find out where Elizabeth was so he could rescue her and win her heart, and by golly, that's what he was going to do! 

No matter how long it took to get Mr. Sparrow to talk to him.

"_Please_ let me in!" he cried in desperation. "All I want is to make you a business proposition... over a drink."

The noises of war from the telly were suddenly muted, and unsteady footsteps were heard before the door was slightly opened, making only Mr. Sparrow's watery eyes viewable.

"A drink, did yeh say?" he asked.

_-=-_

Whilst Will began the undoing of most of Jack's Grandmaster Plan Not To Get Caught With That Swann Idiot's Daughter, "Clyde and Daphne Whitaker" were slowly deteriorating each other's sanity -- although there was less to lose on the part of the former. Every minute of every hour was filled with either idle conversation, or scathing banter... Lizzie was wishing Jack would snap something dramatic, and threaten to shoot someone, just for a bit of action. Jack was hoping that any time now Lizzie would give into his devilish charms and admit how attractive he was to her. Of course, neither of these things _seemed_ likely to happen any time soon, on account of the fact that both were much too safe-minded. The result of this was more idle conversation, and more scathing banter, which only served to bore them. Soon a more inventive way to live was thought up.

They now spent their evenings on the balcony with Captain Morgan and room service food, completely inebriated and delightfully relaxed. Jack leaning against the railing with laughable ease, and Lizzie spread-eagled on the luncheon table -- the umbrella that previously stood over it having been flung over the side in a fit of drunken something-or-other. This is how it was now: The sun setting on a Caribbean horizon; Jack humming some obscure tune or other, every once in a while muttering the words of the song to himself; and Lizzie staring blankly around, her head lolling over the side of the table in what seemed to be a very uncomfortable position. 

"...Hmm hmm... daa dum...."

"Jack?"

He tilted his head to the side in response, trying desperately to make her face stay up the right way. "... Thirteen steps lead down," he sung at her, furrowing his eyebrows. 

"I really think you should grow your beard thingy back... It made you look... er -- older, and more... you know... beardy."

"... lala... There's commoners and kings..."

"I've always thought that... beards and -- facial hair in general were... you know... Is there any rum left?" She sat up abruptly, blinking hard as the world spun before her eyes.

"...Hmm hmm hmm... And everyone's a prisoner of paper... and ... glue. And a decent pair of -- of... scissors... lala..." 

She stood up, wavered, and walked towards him. Still carrying on as though the two of them were having a regular sort of chat. "You don't know how true that is... We're all prisoners of ... people. And. Society... And you saved me from all that, Jack," she was now close enough to poke him in the chest, which was exactly what she did. And then she whispered: "Is there any rum left?"

He raised his half-full bottle up to his lips, staring at her with slightly crossed eyes. "Hmm, la hmm..." he began. "So tonight... I'm drinking to your... your... health. Because, I just can't stand myself..."

He very nearly stuck with the rum. After all, years of loyalty to one thing and one thing only does have its effects on people. However, staring down at that pretty young girl gave him quite a few confusing thoughts... or maybe that was just the rum. But with Lizzie just standing there, and him just standing there, it was really too good of an opportunity to pass up. And so he kissed her. They both enjoyed it considerably -- after all, she had never felt so liberated, kissing a criminal; and he had never felt so bloody drunk.

But the fun ended when he passed out and hit his head against the sharp edge of the luncheon table.

_-=-_

"So you're _not_ the real Jack Sparrow?" Will asked, staring across the table at the newly discovered Gibbs, who was now intoxicated enough to spill secret information.

"No!" he exclaimed, with a spurt of roaring laughter. "Nonononono... Jack Sparrow is in... off somewhere. Hidin' from... from you, I think... I'm not really sure. He's off with 'Lizabeth Swann, and they're prancing around in disguises..."

"You know, Mr. Gibbs, you've been excellent help. Would you like another drink?"

"Well... you don't have to ask me twice. Bring on a keg!"

_-=-_

Elizabeth had been very shocked when Jack fainted. After all, that was usually a feminine sort of thing. But she supposed, that if one had consumed enough alcohol, it was very possible to... you know... fall down. And be... you know... unconscious. However, she had been very pleased when he had kissed her. It was finally the bit of action she had been waiting for... And, if she ever returned home, it would be the ultimate chance to hack her father off. After all... falling in love with your kidnapper wasn't exactly a ... what's the word... _natural_, yes, natural. It wasn't a natural thing. Kidnappers were dangerously dangerous, and full of vicious ferocity, and...

She didn't just think falling in love. Staring down at the slightly crumpled form of her companion, she couldn't even consider that she might have just thought what she had just... you know... thought. After all, she was only... er... nineteen, and she had no... even vague... idea of how old _he_ was... Not that she was thinking love, of course. 

Because she wasn't.

...Was she? _Oooooh, dear..._ Now her head was beginning to hurt, and the sudden need to vomit overwhelmed her. But even as she retched over the balcony, she kept insisting to herself that she wasn't... you know... thinking about Jack like that. Because... that would be... rather perverted, in an interesting sort of way.

_But he's not bad-looking..._

_-=-_

**A/N2:** Okay. I've never been drunk before, as I'm under-age, so I apologize if that is nothing like real intoxication. However, I have been around people who seemed to be drunk all the time, and they all seemed to act the way I wrote Jack and Lizzie. Just a note, so that you all know. Also, I don't own the song _13 Steps Lead Down_. That belongs to Elvis Costello.

**XxSablexX:** Thanks! And I'm glad I'm not just hanging around and doing nothing with the plot. And I actually streamed the song you recommended -- it's really cool! I usually listen to Michelle Branch, Weezer, or Elvis Costello. It depends on what mood I'm writing.

**Elf and Tonic:** Perhaps I shall have to write a gel-pen story, then... *ponders* Thanks for reviewing!

**KawaiiRyu:** Yeah... Will's a dork. Anyway, this shall be a Liz/Jack story, because I can't stand Will/Liz. It's dull, and conventional, and it should die. This first drunken kiss thing was awkward to write, but I wanted to write it in that same funky state of mind.... Thanks for reviewing!

**Pirate:** Jack will definitely stay hot... this, I promise. *giggles* And you're very right -- he _doesn't_ age! But that's fine with me... A wrinkle-less Johnny is a more attractive Johnny. I thought he was around 25 when _I_ first saw him.... But of course, I'm usually wrong... (Never heard of the vampire movie, by the way. Sounds interesting, though.)

**eva:** Thanks! And yeah, J/E all the way. I didn't want to do the exact plot of the movie, because that'd be kinda redundant.

**PirateWannabe:** Yeah, Will's doing his own thing now. Let's just hope Norrington doesn't kick his wimpy butt for investigating when he's not _really_ a police dude. And seriously, everyone thinks Jack's "too old", which is frightening. Because someday, they'll all be old, and they'll be married to old dudes... but anyway. I think I might just _have_ to do the gel-pen story. People seem to like the idea. ^_^ 


	9. On the Road Again

**Disclaimer:** _No_.

**A/N:** It's a very peculiar thing to be writing a fanfic about criminals, and then listen to a song called _Watching The Detectives_... Anywhoo. Onto the story!

_-=-_

Gibbs didn't remember what he had told that funny lad that had bought him a drink until the next day, as he sat with an icepack to his head and a cup of coffee in his hand. The conversation came back to him very slowly...

_...Jack Sparrow is in... off somewhere. Hidin' from... from you, I think... I'm not really sure. He's off with 'Lizabeth Swann, and they're prancing around in disguises..._

"Damnit." he muttered.

_-=-_

Elizabeth slept much better than she had the previous night -- apart from the fact that she had to get up and vomit every hour or so. (_Drinking does very evil things,_ she thought to herself. _I think I must avoid it from now on._) But with the absence of Jack in the hotel room, she had gotten the bed.

Jack wandered in around eight, squinting and stumbling around the room until he hit the bed, which he sprawled across the foot of gratefully. His eyes, Elizabeth noticed, were very bloodshot. She wondered if she appeared to be as unhealthy.

"Let's never do that again..." Jack mumbled, scratching his unshaven chin thoughtfully. 

"Alright,"

"Tonight we'll try cigarettes and coffee. Sometimes niccotine-slash-caffeine kicks are even better than being drunk," he smirked, and then let out a long sigh. For some reason, Elizabeth felt like doing the same thing. There were a few moments when they sat in complete silence... and then the telephone rang.

Elizabeth, being closer than Jack was, reached for the reciever with curiosity. Who could be calling _them_? Who even knew they were _here_?

"...Hullo?" she said tentatively. 

"Put Jack on," came a slightly familiar voice, sounding very irritated. She handed the phone over to Jack without any hesitation. He stood up, and walked over to the night-stand so that the cord wouldn't have to stretch.

"'Lo?" Jack said. "...Oh, Gibbs. Well, what are you bothering me for? I told you not to call unless it was an emergency. We don't have to look that word up again, do we?" Jack furrowed his eyebrows, panic glossing his dark eyes. "W... What do you _mean_ there's been an emergency? Gibbs, you bloody well better inform me of what's going on."

He listened, and as he did so, several expressions spread across his face. First a frown, with his tongue poking into his cheek; nextly he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth together with a force that could have bitten through a tree; his eyebrows lowered even further than Elizabeth had thought possible; and then he opened his eyes, slackened his jaw, and his countenance faded from gray to boiling black in one instant.

It was terrifying -- as was the tirade he broke into a splitsecond later.

"Damn you to bleedin' _hell_, traitorous pig!" was the first movement of the speech. "Do you not realize everything you have just put on the line? Do you not realize that the adding in of my job to this equation, I will be locked up faster than you can say 'Watch your knickers'?" A pause. "I _know_ accidents happen, Gibbs... but in working for me, part of your job was making sure they couldn't! You send me those bloody ID scans within the next five minutes, or I swear I'll have your head on a platter."

He slammed the phone down with an extreme amount of violence, and rubbed the bridge between his nose.

Elizabeth was shaking. Having lived with an unnaturally composed family, she wasn't used to outbursts like that one. It was horrifying, and all of a sudden she wanted her adventure to be over. But at the same time, there was something pushing her to go on. To play along, and escape only if it got too dangerous.

"What happened?" she asked nervously.

He sighed, and gave her a very interesting look. He no longer seemed smug and deadly to Elizabeth -- mainly angry, wary, and perhaps a bit frightened. "The long and short of it," he said quietly. "is that we've got a day and a half to be in another country under different identities... And just so you know," he paused, leaning closer to her, "if you give me _any_ resistance, Gibbs' punishment will look like a stroll through a field of flowers compared to what I'll do to you."

She nodded, and he ruffled her hair. 

"Good girl," he said. "Now... by any chance can you do an American accent?"

_-=-_

Back in London, Will was just leaving work, and headed towards the airport. Checking flight records for Clyde and Daphne Whitaker -- names that Gibbs had given him after the keg was brought along -- was his goal, although he wasn't sure that they would reveal records to anyone other than a police official.

Which is why he had filched Norrington's badge.

Will knew, of course, that stealing was as illegal as mass-murdering or causing a car accident on purpose, but he reasoned that stealing a police badge couldn't be nearly as deadly as either of those two crimes.

_After all,_ he thought to himself. _I'm doing this for Elizabeth, so it can't really be counted as an offense._

_-=-_

Jack took Lizzie out that afternoon. Their first purchase was a rather cheap digital camera, and then a new pair of glasses -- this time for Jack. After that they made a trip to a salon, where Lizzie got her hair permed and Jack got his cut. It was a very sad experience for him, holding his beautiful hair in his hands... but the short, dark spikes he now sported weren't that bad, either. Later, he made Lizzie run her hands through his hair until it was appropriately disheveled. He was convinced that being schooled in beauty meant you were no good at it.

When they returned to the hotel room, the first think Jack did was turn on his laptop, then the digital camera, and take pictures of the both of them -- pictures that looked like they came from an ID or a passport. Lizzie went to pack her things while he uploaded the pictures and saved the image scans Gibbs had e-mailed him, continuing his project in PhotoShop.

When he had finished, and their brand new identities had been printed out (they were now Egan and Victoria Mitchell), he sent an e-mail back to Toxic Records, informing them that he would be in Las Vegas on on the thirtieth and would like to meet at seven in Caesar's Palace.

This, despite the annoyance and immense inconvenience, was going to be one bloody lot of fun.

_-=-_

**Elf and Tonic:** Yes, J/E! And there will be ever-so-much more! Thanks for your review ;o)

**luvlyGRLofLIFE:** Thanks for reviewing! The goatee will grow back very soon, and I'm probably going to include the braids at some point. *snickers*

**Savvylicious01:** Firstly, your name is _so_ cool! I love it! Secondly, thanks for reviewing, and I'm really glad you like it! 

**eva:** By all means, have all the rum you want! *giggles* Thanks for reviewing!

**XxSablexX:** Hee hee! I do love Weezer to death. And a lot of other bands. I haven't listened to much American Hi-Fi, but I think I might start now. *winks*

**KawaiiRyu:** No... There's much more fun to be had! And yeah, Lizzie's kind of getting slapped in the face with his raw emotion. She's lived in an emotionally controlled environment, and finds it enchanting that someone can behave just how they think without getting into trouble. She also thinks Jack's dead sexy, which he is. And his age.... although it doesn't matter, like you said, is forty. 

**Flamingo Feathers:** Thanks! And I'm glad you like everyone!

**Jack's Lady:** Thanks! And I'm glad I did okay with the drunken bit... I was very worried.

**PirateWannabe:** Well, I wouldn't really know about Will's butt, 'cause I don't look, but anyway... I don't get how people can think Jack's too old, either! I think he's a stud, and I adore the eyeliner... heehee... *giggles insanely* 


	10. In Which Jack Meets Jack

**Disclaimer:** Consider PotC disclaimed.

**A/N:** Yay! Another chapter out! And what makes it even more fun, is I thought of most of this whilst watching _Edward Scissorhands_!

_-=-_

Elizabeth was surprised when they boarded the plane to Las Vegas. There were hardly any people on it -- seven, counting Jack and herself. Of course, it was one of the few flights that left in the early morning hours, but she had somehow thought that there would be more of a crowd.

She was feeling nervous around Jack, and had been ever since he mentioned his job to Gibbs. It didn't seem right to travel with a man who could be arrested for his occupation... The lack of bodies was increasing her unease. She wanted someone to be near enough to conk her companion over the head, just in case he pulled out some sort of weapon.

What if he was a hired assasin for the Mob?

The two of them took their seats at the back of the aircraft, carefully shuffling in. Elizabeth noticed that the rest of the passengers were at least five rows ahead of them. Out of earshot. Unable to see them without turning in their seats and craning their necks. 

_Not good..._

Jack turned to face her, making a rather funny face. "What's up?" he asked. "You seem a bit... piqued. Everything alright?"

In her mind, she kept seeing a Rambo-like Jack, complete with headband and machine gun as he shot down dozens of innocent people like herself. 

"Fine," she said, forcing a smile. "Absolutely fine. Everything alright with you?"

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask any more questions. _Good,_ thought Elizabeth. _Perhaps I'll have time to devise an escape plan... just in case._ But before she could think of anything, she found a hand in front of her face, holding a package of Gummi Bears.

"Want some?" asked Jack.

"No... no thank you."

"You haven't eaten in quite a while, Li... um, Da -- no... _Vicky_. I'm getting rather worried, to tell the truth."

She chuckled nervously. "I'm fine, Ja -- er... Cl -- er... _Egan_. I already told you... I'm just not hungry."

"And not thirsty, and shaking like an old man with Parkinson's?" he finished for her, raising the other eyebrow as well. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasted your seatbelts -- we're ready for take-off," said the tinny voice of a flight attendant over the intercom. At the same time, the **FASTEN SEATBELTS** sign lit up.

Elizabeth reached for hers immediately -- her twitching hands causing her to fumble with the buckle. She couldn't seem to get the stupid thing to work... _Bloody contraption..._

Little did she know, Jack had been watching her struggle to master the safety belt, and decided to be kind and help the poor girl. After all, it wouldn't pay to be cruel to the girl he had abducted. She _had_ been awfully cooperative so far.

He reached over and fastened it for her, giving her a pointed look. 

"I could have done it," Elizabeth muttered, feeling very uncomfortable. 

Jack snorted. "I think you might have low blood sugar," he said, pushing several boxes of sweets into her lap. "I'm not taking any chances -- it would be very awkward for you to collapse whilst in my care."

She stared down at the candy, and sighed. "Thanks, Egan."

_-=-_

"No... Clyde and Daphne _Whitaker_. You don't want me to call in my associates from Scotland Yard, mate..."

The man Will was talking to seemed ultimately disheveled. There were prints of flight records everywhere, notes all over the place, and still nothing to be found.

"I'm sorry, sir... I'm sure I'll find it in a minute."

Ten more minutes of frantic searching finally brought Will what he was looking for: Clyde and Daphne Whitaker -- the 718 to Jamaica.

_-=-_

The streets of Las Vegas were illuminated with all sorts of lights -- mostly from casinos and resorts, which was what brought this city most of its crazed, gambling-addicted tourists. As Jack and Lizzie strolled down the street (not daring to take a cab, because one never knew what danger lurked in a foreign place... especially if one hasn't read the tour book), their luggage dragging behind them, an eerie sort of music suddenly made itself heard.

Five minutes later, they were faced with an ancient organ grinder, and his ridiculously dressed monkey. He leered at them, and the monkey did a strange sort of dance on the sidewalk, throwing its little arms into the air.

"Care to donate some money to the poor?" said the organ grinder. His voice was gravelly and rough -- the voice of a smoker, Jack realized.

The monkey howled. 

"If you're so poor," Jack said, making sure he sounded American, "where'd you get the chimp? They don't exactly run around city streets, y'know,"

For a second, the organ grinder glared. But then he was distracted by his companion leaping onto Lizzie's shoulder. She looked at it nervously, obviously unsure of whether or not it was going to attempt an attack. Jack decided to speak before she let her accent slip.

"What's the thing's name?" he asked, pointing at the wild (and possibly rabid) animal that was climbing up Lizzie's head.

"Jack," replied the organ grinder.

"How fitting," said Lizzie -- in the best imitation of an American accent she could manage -- giving the human Jack a very evil smile.

"Come on, darling," Jack muttered, shoving the monkey off of Lizzie's head and grabbing her by the arm. "We don't want to miss giving you your medication... You could start seeing people again."

And with that, he proceeded to drag her down to Caesar's Palace, where their room was booked. (Once there, Jack gave her a very long lecture about talking to strangers, and humiliating him in front of them. Fortunately for him, Lizzie was to frightened that he would chop her head off to argue with anything he said.)

_-=-_

**XxSablexX:** Thanks! And yeah... Lizzie is very submissive. In a way, I'm mocking all the chicks in movies who don't protest to anything. Jack's goatee/long hair will definitely be back soon. I promise!

**Pirate:** Yes, J/L _does_ rock! Jack and Lizzie will definitely have fun in Vegas. There's just so much trouble they can cause! (And don't worry, there will be plenty of disguises for them to wear!)

**hpdancer92:** You're back! And I'm glad you reviewed ;o) Thanks for all your compliments again!

**rythmteck:** Oooh, dear, you lost college registrations and cell phone payments? Crazy. Thanks for reviewing in spite of all you have going on! Jack with short hair is rather alarming, although I have a lovely mental picture of him, so all's well for me. *chuckles to herself* I'm glad you liked his outburst, too... It was rather hard to write, as he didn't really get mad in the film, but I kind of incorporated a whole bunch of people I know into that particular scene.

**KawaiiRyu:** Thanks for reviewing! And whilst I'm not sure if Jack's business will interfere, Elizabeth finding out about Jack's business might.

**Clez:** Thanks! And Will... he's kind of a dorky fop. (By the way... Please don't die!)

**Savvylicious01:** That's so cool! Thanks for reviewing! I did enjoy writing that part where Jack gets his hair chopped off... it'll grow back, though. I hope...

**PirateWannabe:** I know... Will's being a nerd (You're welcome to slap him, by the way). I haven't seen OUTM... It's rated R, and I'm not allowed to see R rated movies. *sighs dramatically* Isn't it mostly rated just for violence and language? And just so you know... every time I see your name in a review I think of wassabe... or wassabi. However you spell that. 


	11. Drat

**Disclaimer:** Really, _really_ not mine.

**A/N:** Slightly-fluffy chapter! What fun... ^_^ Also, for all the people who asked... Will's blue gel-pen will be in the next chapter.

_-=-_

Will had never been on an airplane before. Of course, he wouldn't really have anywhere to go, now would he? The only places he ever felt the need to visit were work, and the grocer's -- but he was very excited as he boarded the plane to Jamaica. The glee only increased throughout the trip, and by the time he stepped onto foreign ground he was as giddy as a schoolgirl.

He was very fortunate Norrington wasn't there to slap him back into reality.

As our cunning friend entered the hotel, however, he tried to contain himself. Squaring his shoulders and frowning what he considered to be a policey frown, Will strolled through the gilded doors and right over to the front desk. A man, smiling excessively, looked up from a computer screen; his look screamed "How can I help you?".

"Good morning," said the man. "How can I help you?"

"What room are Clyde and Daphne Whitaker in?" Will asked, trying desperately to be intimidating. This was rather hard, as Will had never tried intimidation before... the fact that the man behind the desk was at least six-foot-six didn't help, either.

The man raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. In his opinion, this scrawny little man obviously had heathen parents and was not schooled in ettiquette. Where was the _Thank you_? Where was the _Could you please tell me..._? He sighed. The world was going to the dogs, that was for sure. He didn't voice any of this, though. He just opened the records file and searched for the people that had been asked for.

"Whitaker..." he said. "Er... Sorry, sir, it looks like they checked out yesterday afternoon."

Will was in shock. They couldn't have _left_. No criminal would have resources enough to take two trips -- _plus_ hotel stays -- right in a row... unless he was a bank-robber as well as a kidnapper. The thought gave him shivers.

"Are you positive they're gone?" he asked nervously. "Absolutely positive?"

"Yeah," said the man, shrugging. The kid seemed to be in a panic, so he decided on giving him a brief description, just in case. "The guy was about five-ten... long, black hair... looked in his late twenties. And the girl... blonde hair, maybe five-two or three. Glasses. That them?" _Glasses?_ thought Will. _Elizabeth doesn't have glasses... But maybe that was a disguise..._ "Yes, that's them," he said, sighing in defeat. They must have figured he was coming... But how? _Perhaps that drunken associate of Sparrow's awoke and decided to warn his boss._

He didn't know what to do. There was no concievable way to find them... unless he went to the airport. And asked people if they had seen anyone even remotely like Sparrow and Elizabeth...

_Hah!_ he thought, running out of the hotel without so much as a goodbye to the man behind the desk. _I'm winning!_

_-=-_

Elizabeth was amazed to wake up that next morning. She had been positive that Jack would murder her in her sleep... but she was very alive, and completely unharmed. However, upon the regaining of her consciousness, she noticed that there were several strange noises in the room. What she failed to notiec, is that this was a room with two beds, and both she and Jack were in the same room as the television.... which is what the noises were coming from. 

She rolled over, and saw a very interesting sight: Jack was sitting on the edge of his bed, surrounded by boxes upon boxes of donuts. Jelly filled, chocolate... even some called Krispy Kreams. He was watching, much to Elizabeth's surprise, a show that called itself _People's Court_. On the nightstand was a half-empty gallon of chocolate milk.

Jack turned, reaching for the milk, and smirked at her. "Care for a donut?" he asked. "They're really quite tasty... especially the Krispy Kreams. You're welcome to the chocolate milk as well... although, in retrospect I realized that I forgot to buy cups, this hotel is kind enough to provide them."

A pause. Elizabeth stared.

"What?" Jack asked. "You can't tell me you've _never_ spent a Saturday morning eating sweets and watching the telly..." Elizabeth shook her head. "That's just horrible," he said, absently reaching for a donut. "Then again, you grew up in one of those controlled environments, didn't you? What a shame... I guess you'll just have to make up for it now, aye?"

He chuckled, and rattled a box of chocolate donuts at her.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly comfortable..."

"If I wanted you to be comfortable with it, I woulda bought crumpets, herbal tea, and we'd be watching C-Span." He gave her a very impertinent look, and patted the space of mattress right next to him.

_This goes against your upbringing,_ said a voice in her head. _You're forsaking dad..._

**Oh, for the _love_...** said another voice. **It's donuts with Jack -- not papers to become an American citizen! It wouldn't do any harm to dad.**

And so, very cautiously, Elizabeth made up her mind. Jack smiled as she sat, handing her several boxes of several different things all at the same time. He gesticulated wildly as he filled her in on what had been going on. He explained who the judge was, and what the defendant and the prosecutor were saying. Later, he explained why everyone who came to court brought their children, and why everyone had such an irrelevant case.

"They just want their fifteen minutes of fame, Lizzie," he said, staring at the TV screen with a knowing expression. "They don't really care who wins or loses. It's just to get on the telly."

"That's rather stupid," she said, turning to him. 

"People are stupid, darling."

She thought about this for a moment, and then sighed. "If it were me," she said, "I'd try and do something worthwhile... something that would help people."

He snickered, and changed the channel. Elizabeth's own picture was on the screen, next to the newscaster. The headline **SEARCH FOR ELIZABETH SWANN STILL GOING** was in a marquee below her.

"You didn't have to do anything good," Jack said, matter-of-factly. "Just something...stupid. Not that I'm calling you stupid, of course," he added quickly, seeing the look she shot him. "Personally, I'm grateful you let your suspicion get the best of you. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this grand adventure, now would we?"

"No," she said, considering his words. "...I wouldn't have gotten a break from society."

"And I wouldn't have had the opportunity to meet the infinitely charming Elizabeth Swann,"

Once again, Elizabeth felt liberated. Jack seemed to have that effect on her, although the prospect of that frightened her terribly. Nonetheless, she raised her plastic cup of chocolate milk and grinned.

"I propose a toast," she said. "to... unlimited possibilities."

"To freedom," Jack added, smirking. 

They bumped the rims of their cups, and downed their milk in one breath, both wiping milk-induced facial hair whilst shaking from surpressed giggles.

"Excellent," said Jack. "Now, break out the TV Guide. I want to see if there's any station in this continent that's playing _Planet of the Apes_ anytime soon..."

_-=-_

A/N2: Unfortunately, time on my PC is limited at the moment, so I will get an A/N up soon with personal thanks to everyone. Until then, I appreciate every review! 


	12. Double Drat

**Disclaimer:** Really, _really_ not mine. Still.

**A/N:** This chapter is a little weird, as it contains some Liz/Jack confrontation. I hope it doesn't bother any of you too much...

_-=-_

Jack and Lizzie both had a rather hard time of getting to sleep that night. At around two in the morning, Jack had voiced the opinion that the sugar from the donuts and the caffeine from the several cans of Coke Classing they had chugged in the earlier part of the evening had given their bodies a permanent buzz. One that might last for the next twenty years.

Sleep continued to elude them, and casual conversation was slowly started as the early morning hours grew closer and closer. Idle chitchat. Nothing remotely interesting, until Lizzie asked a rather off-topic question:

"Where did you get all your money, Jack?"

"What?" An automatic answer, although a question shouldn't really qualify as an answer to another question... he threw himself offguard for a moment by his own mental calculations. He always seemed more alert when he didn't have any rum... and he didn't like it one bit.

"Well... I mean, you haven't really gone to work or anything this whole time I've been with you, and yet you have enough money to fly the both of us to Jamaica, where we stayed in a very nice hotel... and you have enough money to fly us both from Jamaica to Las Vegas, where we stay in Caesar's Palace. It just doesn't make sense... unless you obtain all of your finances illegally..."

Through this little observation Lizzie spoke very quickly, as though she were afraid he would interject. And as she finished, Jack saw the shadowy outline of his companion sit up in bed, her tangled hair adding distortion to the ill-defined figure.

"The only reason I'm saying this," she continued, barely allowing herself time to draw breath, "is because you had no qualms about kidnapping me. It makes me wonder what other things you're capable of."

Jack stared at the inside of his eyelids for a moment, not quite sure what to say. The truth had never been one of his favorite options, although now it seemed like the right thing... But if she found out how he got all his money -- swindling famous idiots -- and he allowed her to return home, he'd be locked up. Hadn't he taken them to America to _avoid_ being locked up? Hadn't he been trying to safeguard himself, and the girl he had abducted? Hadn't he been running -- _no_, avoiding the law to emancipate both he and Lizzie from responsibilities? Wasn't this a completely selfless act?

_No,_

Wasn't this a _nearly_ completely selfless act?

_No..._

Wasn't he being kind to her by saving her from the evils of controlled environments?

_No._

What was he being, then? A blasted lunatic and a bloody prat?

_Yes,_

Drat... And she deserved to know how he came to acquire his funds -- even though it wasn't her life and it would normally be none of her bleeding business?

_Yes._

Double drat.

"I'm not a stinkin' hit man, if that's what you mean," he said with a sigh. "And even if I were, would you want to know?"

Pause.

"I suppose I would," she replied, "so that I'd know I was most likely in danger..." She leaned over to the nightstand and turned on a lamp. "What is it you _do_ occupate yourself with, then?"

"You're still afraid of what I might be capable of?"

"Very,"

She stared at him from the other bed, her eyes gleaming with a slightly fearful curiosity. The need to tell the truth was eating at his brain. _Subconscious morality,_ he thought bitterly. _I really must stop watching those blasted made-for-TV movies..._

"If you really want to know," he said. "I... well..." _I steal films, songs, and software and make them available to people for free. Then I wait around until someone gets hacked off and offers to pay me a very nice sum of money to leave their property alone until it's legally released. **How hard is that to say?**_

"I had an incredibly wealthy grandmother who happened to be very fond of my cheeky ways. She left me all of her inheritance,"

_Apparently, **very** hard._

"And the briefcase I first saw you with?" Lizzie pressed. 

"That was a few weeks after dear old Gran passed..." he said, making sure he sounded quite forlorn.

She gave him a very peeved look. "As original and slightly touching as that story is," she said, "I know you're lying. Over the phone with Gibbs you said your occupation would get you jailed... Since you don't seem to want to share your _real_ job with me, I'll be forced to assume the worst."

"Which is...?"

"That you are, in fact, a 'hit man' -- and the evidence of that lies not only in the threats you make, but also to the fact that you seem to make light of death."

"Well, aren't you an observant little thing,"

"I have to be," she said, her words containing a certain degree of melancholy now. "I'm kidnapped, terribly afraid of my abductor, and... And I think I want to go home."

This triggered anger in Jack, for some unknown reason, and he found himself sitting up in his bed as well. "Home?" he said, as though the very idea were preposterous. "Do you have any _idea_ what'll happen if you go home?"

"I'll be safe," she said through gritted teeth. "And I won't have to put up with lying, vicious dogs like you."

"No, you won't have to put up with people like me," he shot back. "But you will have to put up with being locked in your house, because your father will _not_ let you out of the house when he finds out you were kidnapped by a forty-year-old man and dragged all over the world. You'll be kept in a nice glass cabinet made for life-sized pocelain dolls, and you'll be married to the first idiot your father approves of. You'll lead a life that consists of doting on said husband and having excessive amounts of children until you're too old and too tired to carry on any longer. If you're lucky, you'll be driven to suicide before you hit fifty, but if your luck runs out -- which it probably will -- your attempts will be fruitless, and you'll find yourself forced to spend up to seventy years with your arranged husband. 

"Do you really want that, Miss Elizabeth Swann?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide. "Heavens, Jack," she said slowly, her voice very quiet. "One would almost think that you didn't _want_ me to leave."

_-=-_

"Yeah... I did see a couple that looked awfully like those two," said a flight attendant, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at Will, who was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. "They were on my flight, actually... To America. I think I heard the girl saying that they were headed to Las Vegas sometime during the trip..."

Will smiled, amazed at the luck he was having. If only Norrington could see him now!

"Thank you, Miss," he said, shaking her hand. "You have no idea how grateful the United Kingdom's police force is for your services."

"Anytime," the flight attendant replied with a smile... a smile that seemed a little too friendly for Will's liking. He decided to get himself out of there.

"Right," he said, nodding at her. "Well... thanks again."

And before the flight attendant could make a move on this English Muffin, he was off searching for the fastest flight to Las Vegas, Nevada. 

_-=-_

I'm sorry, but I have to delay that A/N... It'll come next, I promise! And now I have to go deal with a brother who thinks he needs to act like the Spawn of Satan... *sighs in despair* 


	13. Riiiiight,

**Disclaimer:** Really, really, _really_ not mine.

**A/N:** I'm sorry this chapter took so long, and that it's so short. The next one will be _much_ longer. Also, I'll try and write you an e-mail reply if you reviewed the A/N-chapter. Thanks, once again, to everyone reading!

_-=-_

Elizabeth and Jack stared at each other for a very long time, each thinking very hard. Elizabeth sighed to herself as she tried desperately to hold Jack's gaze. She wanted something to drink. Something strong.

Before she could make the suggestion, Jack reached up and turned off the light, muttering breathily: "Goodnight, Liz,"

She raised an eyebrow. That was it? It was just... ending? How peculiar that Jack, King of Everything, was just going to end this crazed conversation by going to sleep. It made her wonder what he was up to.

"Goodnight, Jack," she said quietly, slowly laying back down on the bed. 

_I think it's that he's not sure how to answer,_ she thought to herself. _I don't think he knows what to say without giving something away that he doesn't want to. That's very odd. He always seems to know what he's doing._

_-=-_

_Stupidstupidstupid girls and their stupidstupidstupid need to say **moronic** things that make people like **me** confused!_ Jack thought to himself, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling. _They **could** just keep their mouths shut. They could completely ignore anything they thought they were supposed to say, and then men would like them one flip of a lot more. '**Heavens, Jack, one would almost think you didn't want me to leave. Heavens, Jack...**'... By the time I'm done throttling the girl, she'll be **in** heaven!_

His eye twitched. Excessive amounts of anger seemed to make it do that.

_Right. Well, at least I have two things to look forward to: That meeting with Toxic tomorrow, and then the search for new identities. I'm sure there's an ID peddler around here who deserves to have some frustration taken out on him... _

_-=-_

Will landed in Las Vegas with a very big smile on his face. A steward on his flight had said that he remembered Egan and Victoria Mitchell, because they were seated near the back of the aircraft and kept whispering back and forth. The man had said it seemed strange, because everyone else was speaking in normal tones.

Will had reasoned that kidnap would be a good reason to whisper -- especially if one had an English accent and might be on the run from the UK's police. He was most definitely winning.

The next thing he did was call several hotels and ask for Egan and Victoria Mitchell's room. He finally found them at Caesar's Palace hotel and casino where they were in room 358. 

He was _so_ winning.

He took a cab to Caesar's Palace, and stood outside it with awe on his face. He was nearly there. He had almost recovered his first missing person. And he wasn't even a cop! But just as he decided to go inside, his cell-phone rang.

"Hello?" he said nervously.

"Turner? Where in the world _are_ you? You haven't been into the office in four days, I've tried calling your house, but to no avail..."

Will recognized the annoyed tone immediately -- it was Norrington. He smiled to himself as he once again entertained the thought that he was very much ahead of his "important" friend. "Norrington," he said cheerfully, taking his blue gel-pen out of his pocket and twirling it in his fingers. "I'm actually in... er... Dublin. No... No, a very good friend of mine is sick. He's got... ehm... diphtheria. He's in an isolation chamber at the hospital, and I've come to say hello to him."

"Is that so?"

"Er... yes."

"Well, alright then. Make sure to be back at work as soon as you possibly can... by the by, did you see my badge anywhere before you left? It seems to be missing..."

Will smiled at the thought of the silver badge clipped inside his wallet.

"Nope. Didn't see it anywhere,"

_-=-_


	14. Sigh, She Said

**Disclaimer:** Really, _really_ not mine. Stillstillstill.

**A/N:** Okay. This chapter is kind of strange, but I hope you all like it. Sorry it took so long to post!

_-=-_

Elizabeth awoke the next morning to a relatively empty hotel room. Obviously, she was befuddled... kidnappers did not tend to leave their victims alone where they could escape easily. And yet, Jack's bed was neatly made, his pajamas folded on the dresser next to the TV, and no sound was heard from the direction of the bathroom. There was, however, a piece of paper taped to the TV screen, right in front of Elizabeth's bed.

She arose curiously, wondering what could possibly be going on. _Maybe this is some sort of trick,_ she thought, uneasily. But it wasn't. Written on the Caesar's Palace stationary in a nearly unreadable scrawl was the following series of words:

_Lizzie,  
I've gone out to run a few errands, and won't be back 'til two or three  
in the afternoon. Don't pick up the phone if anyone calls, and make   
sure not to answer the door. There's some "E.L. Fudge" cookies on   
the dresser -- I tried them the last time I was here and they were quite  
good -- and more conventional foods in case you want a breakfast  
like you're at home. Try not to get into too much trouble..._ (Here there was a small smiley face drawn)

_P.S. -- There's a Women's Entertainment channel that I noticed,   
and they're playing a movie you might like at 11:00am..._

The note was signed "J.". Elizabeth supposed Jack didn't want to arouse suspicion, just in case their room was searched any time in the near future. She quickly scanned his words again, looking sourly at the mention of her home. It could certainly be mockery, although without Jack here intoning it was hard to tell. She glanced at the clock, and found (much to her surprise) that it was very nearly 11:00. Then she glanced at the food on the dresser. There was the pink package of cookies, staring at her innocently as all chocolatey products do. And sitting forlornly next to the colorful cookies were a grapefruit and a small spoon.

_Ahah,_ Elizabeth said to herself. _Mockery._ For some reason, that thought comforted her. Mocking Jack made the idea of the previous night's Jack seem utterly ridiculous. 

She grabbed the cookies and the remote control, and switched the TV to _Women's Entertainment_. She turned it on in time for the opening credits: A black screen and what looked to be chalk drawings in various colors while very interesting music played. Then the title appeared... _Drive, She Said_.

_-=-_

Jack was shopping. He strolled around the clothes in some obscure little Goth store near the Strip, staring heavily at the excessive amounts of black. It wasn't that he didn't like black... but this was Nevada. If you were going to wear black anything in Nevada it'd have to be a wifebeater and your skivvies. Jack chuckled to himself at that, remembering fondly a particular escapade of his... it had ended with him not being allowed in Canada anymore.

A rather depressed-looking sales clerk tapped Jack on the shoulder, her pale face giving him a bit of the heebiejeebies.

"Is there anything you're looking for?" she asked, sounding rather testy. " 'Cause if there isn't, stop breathing my air and go back to your vintage clothing, pop-music crazed life."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Actually," he said, "I'd _love_ to stop breathing your air -- it's rather musty, to tell you the truth. However, I happen to be looking for some _clothing_, so I don't think I'll leave just yet." 

The girl stared at him for a moment, not sure if she could come up with something angsty enough to get him out of there. Strangely enough, she couldn't, and Jack delivered the final statement with superb indifference:

"You can go be evil somewhere else now." he said. "I think I saw a little girl with ice cream sitting on a bench across the street -- maybe you can go lecture her on the horrors pastel colors will wreak on her pathetic little life."

The girl flipped Jack the "bird", and walked away, scowling even more than usual. He snickered, continuing to browse. Annoying people was one of his favorite things to do...

_-=-_

Elizabeth stared blankly at the closing credits of the movie, her heart skipping beats every once in a while.

_Drive, She Said_ was a movie about a bank teller who is kidnapped at gunpoint by a man who needs money to keep his mother in the hospital. The two of them drive across everywhere together -- he even gets her to shoot a police officer -- until they're finally apprehended at a hotel. The bank teller returns to her boyfriend of five years in the end, but she's not happy. It ends with her going to find her kidnapper. They had fallen in love.

Elizabeth blinked, and sighed. It had been a strange movie. But then again, she could be gone by now. She could be gone, and yet she wasn't. Heavens, she could have eaten the grapefruit, but she hadn't! She was more influenced by her kidnapper than she had thought, and her head suddenly felt as though it were spinning. The only question was, if Jack asked her to pull the trigger of his pistol, would she do it?

**In a heartbeat.**

_That's wrong,_

**I _know_ it's wrong! I said I'd do it, not do it and like it...**

_-=-_

When Jack had returned home from his shopping trip, he had quickly changed clothes and then been on his way. He could tell Lizzie had watched that movie by the way she regarded him -- almost fearfully, as if he might shoot her. But he wouldn't. And she knew that...

Wanting to loosen up a bit before his meeting with Toxic Records and Daniel Dakota, Jack had gone down to the bar for a drink. Sadly, this casino/hotel was a piece of crap as they didn't house _Captain Morgan's_... so he had to settle for Mike's Hard Lemonade. It wasn't nearly as tasty, but it was alcohol, and that was enough for dear Captain Jack. 

Some French lounge music was playing in the background, which made the atmosphere that much more fun. After a few hours of being hit on by foreigners, however, Jack started to lose his appetite for the place. He was thinking about slipping into the casino for a quick game of craps, when two people walked in that he wasn't expecting for another half hour...

The first one he recognized as Daniel Dakota, the famed teen movie actor-cum-singer, who was very close to being as pretty as Jack himself. And the second was a very frail-looking old man carrying two large brown briefcases. The two men looked around for a moment, and then made their way to the back table, as Jack had specified in his e-mail. 

Carefully sliding some ice-blue colored contacts onto his eyes and adjusting a safety pin on one of his sleeves, he approached them with ease. 

"Gentlemen," he said, smoothing out his accent so that he sounded much more sophisticated. "Are you looking for the Captain?"

This time, Jack walked away with one-hundred-thousand dollars, and a three-month supply of Krispy Kreme donuts. He strolled cheerfully down the corridor to the hotel room, two leather briefcases clutchet tightly in his hands. This had to be the best deal yet. He had maneuvered splendidly, avoiding their attempts at bribery until they had reached their limit... and here he was, rich not only in money, but in donuts as well! There was nothing that could possibly spoil his mood.

Then he opened the door and saw Lizzie. 

Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, and she was still in her pajamas... her face was pretty pale, except for two patches of pink on her cheeks... she looked exhausted, and Jack found himself prolonging his celebratory dance.

"Liz..." he said, quietly.

"May I ask you a hypothetical question?" she replied, equally soft. 

"Sure,"

"Let's say that the police find us... what will _happen_ to us?"

He stared at her. "Erhm..." he mumbled. "Well, I thought we discussed this last night..." She was making him uncomfortable again, blast her. "Besides, what does it matter? We aren't going to be found, you know. I _am_ a professional criminal."

She looked right up at him, her eyes starting to water. "So. I'll be imprisoned in my house, and you'll be imprisoned in a jail cell. But, Jack, I've been with you for a while now, and I don't think that life will ever be the same without you,"

"Liz, darling... I think you're being a bit unreasonable," She started to cry. Softly, at first, and then large hiccupping sobs. Jack dropped the briefcases -- gently -- and quickly advanced, placing his hands on her shoulders carefully.

She dropped her head so that her chin hit her collar bone. "Don't touch me," she whispered shakily. 

She didn't protest any further, however, and Jack pulled her towards him, resting her head on his shoulder and carefully holding her in place. 

"It's alright, luv," he said. "If those police blighters do come after me, I won't be in prison for long. I swear..."

_-=-_

**A/N:** _Drive, She Said_ is a real movie I saw on We, and is partially what I based this fic on. I thought Lizzie should watch it. *winks*

**rythmteck:** It's fine you haven't reviewed -- I'm not mad! *smiles* Thanks for your compliments. I know a few people who have eye-twitches sometimes, and I think it's hilarious. I thought Jack would be the kind of person for that. 

**Aelimir:** Thanks!

**luvlyGRLofLIFE:** Thanks! And yeah, Will needs... something, anyways.

**Pirate:** Haha, thanks! Will does suck at lying, but it won't be too much longer before he stops. :)

**hpdancer92:** Thanks!

**Clez:** Thanks! And yes, I did smile! Lol..... 

**PirateWannabe:** Thanks! I'm glad you liked Will... he was fun to write in that chapter. Hope you liked this one as well, even though Will was absent...

**KawaiiRyu:** Thanks! And I'm glad you liked it so much! 


	15. Outlaw and Disorder

**Disclaimer:** Really, really, _really_ not mine.

**A/N:** I'm sorry this took so stinkin' long! *sobs* 

_-=-_

Will had gone to the Las Vegas police the minute he had completed his conversation with Norrington. It had taken quite a bit of explanation, how he knew that Elizabeth and that Sparrow man were there, but they were ready to believe him at the promise of being credited with assistance in the rescue in front of thousands of people... Quite frankly, the LVPD wasn't doing very well when it came to popularity, and they were hoping to get back into the citizens' good books.

Anyway, there were twelve volunteers, besides our friend Mr. Turner, and together they had panned a very nice scheme over donuts and coffee. Will and an officer named Mike -- actually, he was Mike VII, as there were nine "Mike"s on the force and people were running out of nicknames -- would stand outside room 358 in Caesar's Palace and use Will's phone to call the hotel extension. Then they would wait until someone picked up the phone. 

When they did, Will and Mike VII would kick the door open, pull out their guns, and order that Elizabeth be released from her kidnapment. Just in case the perpetrator tried to... oh, jump out the window and escape, there were five squad cars surrounding the area.

Will felt very clever as he held his cell phone to his ear, the ringing sound barely beginning.

Jack didn't feel very clever as he answered.

_-=-_

The phone began ringing at a very inopportune moment. Jack glared at it from the floor, hoping that it would shut up. He had a sobbing girl in his arms, for heaven's sake! People don't just call other people during times like these!

And then he remembered... He hadn't given anyone the number. Or the location. Or the pseudonyms. Which could only mean...

He slowly wriggled closer to the nightstand, still holding Lizzie, and reached up for the biege reciever.

"What do you want?"

"Mr. Sparrow?" An English accent answered. And it wasn't a slang accent. It was smooth, clear dialogue... like Liz's.

_Damn._

"Mr. Sparrow, this is Mr. Will Turner with the police," he voice continued, sounding faintly amused. "I'm here to negotiate the return of Miss Swann to her home..."

Before Jack could answer, the door was kicked in and Will Turner appeared with Mike VII, guns aimed between poor Captain Sparrow's eyes and glares on their smug faces.

"This hardly looks like a negotiation, Mr. Turner," Jack said, in stoic imitation of Will's accent. "Unless you're too thick to comprehend the meaning of the word."

"Very funny," said Mike VII, in a gravelly voice. 

"Mike..." said Will.

It was then that Lizzie looked up from her crying, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. She glanced at the door, then at Turner, and then at Jack.

"Oh _blast_," she breathed, making Jack the only one able to hear her.

_I completely agree,_ Jack thought.

"Mr. Sparrow," Turner continued, "release Miss Swann this instant, or I'm afraid my associate and I will be forced to open fire."

Jack smirked, his brain whirring into gear. "You're not a real cop, are you, son?" he asked, adding a chuckle for effect.

The look of determination on Turner's face faltered slightly, which is how Jack knew to continue.

"If you were a _real_ officer of the law -- which you obviously aren't -- you would know that the first step in getting back a 'hostage', so to speak, _is_ negotiation. You want to placate the criminal as much as possible, get him to give the victim up willingly. You only threaten as a second-to-last resort... Actually firing is if the victim is in danger." 

He gently took Lizzie's head and turned her to face them, "Does our _darling_ Miss Swann look in much danger to you?"

Turner's arm dropped, and the bleedin' idiot urged Mike VII to do the same. 

That was when Jack grabbed Liz around the waist, stood, and made a mad dash for the door.

_-=-_

**A/N2:** I'm sorry... I won't be able to acknowledge reviews today. And I'm not sure how frequent updates will be. You see, I have been enlisted to make 18 ballgowns for a musical the community college is doing. Unfortunately, said musical takes place during the French Revolution, and opens very, _very_ soon. Ballgowns still need to be made.

My deepest apologies if the next chapter doesn't go up until the show is open/over. 

_-=-_


	16. Another Cliffie

**A/N:** Yay! Finally another chapter up!

_-=-_

Jack and Liz did not escape to the streets of Las Vegas. As a matter of fact, he dragged them through the hallways of Caesar's Palace, turning sharp corners and climbing as many flights of stairs as his legs would allow. Honestly, he had no idea where they were going. Just up. Up, he reasoned, would generally lead to the roof... He supposed that was as good a place to be as any.

After all, young heroes tend to do incredibly stupid things when a woman is being dangled over sidewalk that is several feet below them.

The two of them reached the roof, gasping for breath. She was clutching her side. He smirked down at her.

"Well, that was fun," he said jovially. "I suppose all that's left to do is wait for the stupid blighters to arrive..."

The air was warm, and quite windy. Windy enough to make Jack glad he had decided to cut his hair. One minute passed. These fellows really were inadequate for the job of inforcing the law. Two minutes. Three. Four... They were coming up on five when Mr. Will Turner and his associate burst through, both looking very irate and brandishing their weapons of choice.

"Liz, darling," Jack whispered. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to endanger your life for a moment..."

She turned sharply. "What?" she demanded, but it was too late for questions... 

He grabbed the back of her shirt and, with all of his strength, hoisted her from the ground. The only thing supporting her now (besides Jack himself) was the fact that the back of her heels were resting on the edge of the rooftop.

Will Turner swore.

"I'll drop her," Jack said. "and don't you doubt me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Turner said, glaring.

For a few minutes, they just stood there. Liz hanging over a building, Jack smirking, and the smarmy police looking as if the world were coming to an end.

"So..." Jack said, finally puncturing the tension. "I understand you came here for the return of Miss Swann to her family... But other than that, what do you want?"

The smarmy police looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" he muttered. "I'm asking if you want me to bloody _confess_, idiots."

A pause. Will Turner nodded.

"To everything?"

Another nod.

"Alright... I, Jack Sparrow, am guilty of the following... Murder; vandalism; kidnap; piracy; harrassment; er... theft; wearing too much cologne..." He stopped, looking very thoughtful. "Oh. And I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die."

He smirked. However, Turner and his flunky didn't seem to find the last bit entertaining. Too bad for them, he guessed...

"Jack," Liz whispered. "Can you please put me down now? I'm getting rather dizzy..."

"In a minute, luv," he replied. 

"Well, Sparrow," Turner said, looking very surly indeed. "I hate to sound unprofessional, but Mike and I... we're in a bit of a predicament with you holding Elizabeth over that ledge... You see, her father's very worried."

"I'm sure he is, young man," Jack said. "but what has that to do with me?"

"Well..." A very, _very_ long pause this time. "Mr. Sparrow... If you put her back onto this roof, we'll tell Mr. Swann that you... That, I don't know. That you found her here in Nevada, recognized her from the international news reports, and were bringing her back. You'll get a reward... Thomas Swann is disgustingly rich."

_Yes, I know,_ thought Jack. But he said: "I'm not an idiot, Turner. You're with the police -- the whole of Scotland Yard probably knows you came out here to follow _me_."

The man called Mike looked at Turner in a secretive sort of way, as though the both of them knew something Jack didn't. Will opened his mouth and was about to begin a rather guilty-looking sentence, when Liz screamed.

"_Jack, Will isn't a police officer! Now, in the name of all that is good in this big, bloody world, put me down_!"

He did. And a bullet was fired immediately afterwards.

_-=-_


	17. Tender Love and Care

**A/N:** I am horribly sorry this chapter took so long; and though I know that my apologies probably aren't worth very much, they're all I can offer. This chapter is dedicated to rhythmteck, whom I have not forgotten and did a wonderous job of making me laugh with her slightly irritated review. (I _am_ sorry, dear, but I've been so caught up in my _Frasier_ -- and David Hyde Pierce -- worshipping that I haven't found time for much else until recently.)

_-=-_

The bullet from Will Turner's gun did not cause Jack critical injury. Of course, the barrel of the weapon had been aimed at his heart, and Will had been a quick learner when it came to aiming... But somehow, during the bullet's path to Jack's cardiac system, it veered. Perhaps it was a particularly strong gust of wind, or maybe the soon-to-be victim turned slightly when he realized that someone was firing at him. Either way, it ended up that Captain Jack Sparrow found himself with an umcomfortably sized piece of metal embedded in the muscle tissue of his shoulder, and blood seeping through his new black shirt.

For a moment, he just stared at the hole Will had made, eyes wide with shock. Then Elizabeth began screaming, and the world went black.

He didn't awaken for several more hours, and by then he was safely placed within the confines of Desert Springs Hospital, which was a little over two miles from the scene of the crime. Jack slowly opened his eyes, and nearly fainted. 

Everything was white. It was just like that place he heard of when he was young...er. The place old people and their cats went when their lives were over. Eye-blinding and unnaturally clean, no one in sight... The pupils of his eyes slowly went from the right to the left, examining the room without making any noise. And then --

"...Jack," 

A heavenly, ethereal voice floating down from somewhere above him. For a moment he was captivated by it's melodic quality, and thought that he could spend hours listening to anything this creature had to say. And then he saw her. Curly hair falling about her shoulders, skin like the sands of Jamaica, and a white robe that went to her knees.

"...Jack, can you hear me?"

Oh hell, she was a bleedin' angel!... or, cherub. Or whatever those churchy people called the things that tended to the old people and their cats once they were dead and gone. She had to be one of those things, anyway, because she had the most perfect face, and the loveliest eyes, and a very nice figure...

"Am I dead?" he asked, his voice very low and quiet. 

She sat down on the side of his bed, brushing her hair from her face, and raised an eyebrow. "Jack, you idiot, you're in a bloody hospital."

_Oooh,_ he thought. _Doesn't want to frighten me... The Man Upstairs must not've told her much about me..._

"Miss," he said, looking directly into those increasingly appealing eyes of hers. "I am not afraid of death, nor what comes after it, so please tell me outright: Am I dead?"

"No," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. "but you _are_ incredibly thick," When he raised an eyebrow she added, "Jack, it's _me_. Elizabeth Swann. _Elizabeth Swann_. You're in the hospital because an acquaintance of mine shot you in the shoulder, and they needed to get the bullet out. _I'm_ here because Will wanted to see if I'd suffered any shock..."

He blinked a few times, and then examined the area again. It did look more like a hospital room now, and the angel girl looked more like Elizabeth in a hospital gown. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Bullet in my... shoulder, did you say?"

"Yes, Jack,"

He took his first glance at the bandages over his left shoulder. "I don't feel anything," he said.

"That's because there's pain medication in your IV. It'll probably wear off very soon..." She smiled a bracing smile.

"Will I have a scar, do you think?" he asked, thoughts turning to whether or not it would be visible if he wore one of his wife-beaters, and what would people say when he answered the door shirtless?

She patted his knee, and sighed. "I'm afraid so, Jack..."

"How unattractive," His eyebrows lowered even further.

There was a long, intense silence during which Lizzie stared at him and he turned various thoughts over in his head. He could make a story up concerning the scar, he decided. Perhaps he was fighting off a band of police one day, just for fun, and one of them had (stupidly) decided to try and blow his arm off with a... with a shotgun. (He was in a country where policemen carried shotguns.) Then he had taken the weapon from the moron's hands, beat him over the head with it, and --

"Jack, I'm here to say goodbye, you know."

He looked up from the thin quilt of his bed, eyebrows very much unfurrowed. "Beg pardon?" he said.

"I wasn't looking forward to this," she said with a frown. "I _told_ you I wasn't looking forward to this... I knew it was destined to happen ever since I watched that film in the hotel room." A pause. "Will's taking me back to England... our flight takes off in four hours."

At this point, several thoughts were flittering through Jack's head. confusing him to the point of anger. _She's...leaving? Without me? And who does that bloody fool think he is, taking Liz along as though she were a puppy and he the lunatic owner... And why am I staying here? And who does that psychopath think he **is**?_

Lizzie kept talking. "Will sent for a police chief that was in charge of my return to safety... He'll be here within the hour. He's going to arrest you, Jack, and bring you back to England. You'll be imprisoned and put on trial, but I won't speak against you, Jack. I told Will and James that I wouldn't..." She started to cry, now, lovely eyes welling up with tears and face turning a dainty shade of pink. "God, Jack," she whispered through her sobs. "I can't bear the thought of you being locked up with finks and rapscallions..."

_...And who does that delinquent think he is, making her cry so bloody much!?_ "Elizabeth," he said softly.

Without a warning, she leaned down and kissed him, careful to avoid his wound. And he kissed her back, which was something he hadn't ever done whilst he had his wits about him, and not in the bottom of a bottle of rum.

It was a very good thing for the both of them that Will was on his way to pick up James Norrington at the airport, and the nurse who was attending to Jack thought it quite romantic.

_-=-_


	18. MSN

**A/N:** I'm sorry, this chapter is kind of short and doesn't really develop a LOT of the plot, but it does help. Happy Near Holidays to all of you!

_-=-_

James Norrington stepped off of the airplane, and into the Las Vegas airport feeling very annoyed. First of all, because Turner had beat him to finding Elizabeth. Secondly, because Turner had stolen his badge in order to beat him to Elizabeth. Thirdly, because he was expected to drop everything, fly out to the US, and interrogate the fiend who had snatched the woman of his dreams from her rightful home. And fourthly, because Turner was a bloody secretary with a shiny blue gel-pen. People like that were not supposed to end up with the girl.

The first person he saw, as well, ended up being that feminine nutter, wearing a gigantic grin along with an utterly ridiculous hat. ("Ridiculous" meaning "pink".) _I hate my life,_ James thought.

Turner beamed. "James!" he cried happily, an unwelcomed embrace smothering poor Norrington nearly to death. "I am so glad your flight arrived on time! I was so worried you'd get here after Elizabeth and I had left for England..."

_I want to die,_

"Anyway, I think you'll enjoy questioning Mr. Sparrow... he's quite a character..."

James nodded. He had never been one for idle chitchat. 

The drive to the hospital proved to be nearly ten times as annoying as Turner by himself. It turns out that while he had been in Nevada, he had developed quite a taste for country-western music. Which is what they listened to. The whole drive. And what was worse, Turner sang along, and he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

James _really_ wanted to die then.

He was very grateful when they reached Mr. Sparrow's room, and Turner left to fetch the polygraph machine. He stood in the doorway, surveying the rather tan figure lying in the hospital bed... wearing smudged black eyeliner. James mentally raised an eyebrow. People were so _strange_ these days.

"Mr. Sparrow, I presume?" he said.

The man in the bed looked up from a magazine he had been reading. "Yeah," he said. "and you're that police chap -- supposedly here to question me, eh?"

James nodded.

"Well, go away," Sparrow said angrily. "I'm trying to read about _People_'s Sexiest Man of the Year... Damn people keep interrupting me..."

"Mr. Sparrow, I have an associate bringing down a polygraph machine as we speak..."

He raised an eyebrow. "That gives me at least ten more minutes," he said, going back to his magazine. "Of course, it'll probably take about twenty years to figure out how that Depp man does it all..."

_-=-_

Elizabeth Swann was plotting. 

A few minutes after Will had arrived at the hospital with James Norrington, she had approached the former and asked if he could take her back to Caesar's Palace, to retrieve her belongings. And while the two of them had been there, she had conveniently grabbed both Jack's pistol and his laptop. When she had been returned to the hotel, in order to say hello and goodbye to James, she had taken Will aside to begin Elizabeth's Grandmaster Plan To Keep Jack Out Of Prison.

"Will," she said quietly, moving her mouth very close to his ear. She could hear him sweating.

"Eheh... Yes... Miss Swann?"

"Will, do you think we could possibly stay until Jack's completely healed?" She gave him the most pathetic look possible. "I'm just so afraid that he'll escape before James can bring him back to England... You don't know how sneaky he is, Will..."

"Well..." He smiled gently at her. "I'd hate for you to be afraid..."

Phase one was complete, and as James was taking a short restroom break during the interrogation, she snuck into Jack's room and got his MSN messenger password. Soon, she had hacked into his e-mail account and figured out how to send instant messages to mobile devices.

_-=-_

Will Turner had an instant message.

His cell phone vibrated in his back pocket as he observed Sparrow's questioning, asking his own questions concerning Miss Swann when Norrington permitted it... which wasn't very often. But he pulled his small silver phone from his pocket, raised a finger at James, and looked at the message.

**Jack Sparrow says:** You really thought you had me, didn't you, Turner?

Will stared at the small words on the screen of his Sprint phone, his jaw dropping. The miniature monologue, however, continued.

**Jack Sparrow says:** Oh well. I suppose it's better for you to have Egan Mitchell rather than me. Russia is quite nice this time of year...

"James..." Will whispered, raising his eyes in horror. "I think you might want to read this..."

In the fifth-leval janitor's closet, Elizabeth was chuckling.

_-=-_


	19. The TV Knows All

**A/N:** Well... This is the end, folks. I've really enjoyed writing this fic -- it's so fun! -- and thanks for all of your support... As a Christmas present, I give you chapter nineteen!.

_-=-_

It's a very interesting thing, to bootleg cable TV. In fact, some people would call it easy. The setup, of course, takes a bit of work -- along with not being discovered. But it's so much more fun to be able to watch whatever you want without having to pay for it.

Then again, that is the whole point of stealing things, isn't it?

Lizzie Swann and Jack Sparrow had been in New York for five months, living in a brick apartment building somewhere south of Yonkers. The two of them were comfortable enough together -- they had both taken up jobs at a local café so that they would have at least a minor cashflow between pauses in the piracy business. The minute they had set up their new assumed identities, Thomas Ritner and Noelle Halam, they were married in a civil ceremony. They payed a street vendor and two businesspeople to act as witnesses and/or close friends.

For the two of them, everything was peachy keen. They didn't even know they were missed... until one night the two of them were settled down, watching their pirated cable and sharing a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. Jack was in charge of the remote control, which explained the sudden jump from channel to channel every five minutes (Lizzie's father used to do the same thing. When her mother had been alive, she had told her that it was a mad burst of testosterone that gave men an inexplicable need for power over something. They preferred, she also mentioned, something that was easily mastered).

Well, as Jack continued his channel surfing, and Lizzie contented herself with the thought that she was getting the most of the ice cream, the whir of noise suddenly stopped. She looked up at her husband, raising an eyebrow as she noted that his eyes were fixed to the television screen. She followed his gaze, and found herself staring at...

Her.

There was a picture of her on the screen of their TV, and listen under it was the information that usually followed a picture of a missing person. After a few more seconds, it switched to a picture of Jack, noted as Lizzie's abductor. A voice-over soon followed:

"Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow vanished from Desert Springs Hospital, in Las Vegas, Nevada, on July ninth, Two-thousand and three. No one saw them exit the area, although one nurse does remember sniggering coming from a closet on the fifth floor of the medical facility." Here, Jack planted a small kiss on his wife's cheek.

"As for the two police officers who are responsible for their escape... James Eric Norrington and William Nigel Turner Jr. are currently imprisoned in Russia, where they were allegedly arrested for acts of grand theft auto, arson, and vandalism. No one knows what led them across the world, neglecting their duties as officers of the law and letting an innocent girl be abducted by such a vile man as Jack Sparrow."

It then showed a number to call if anyone happened to see either Lizzie or Jack, and then the credits of whatever show they had been watching played, spooky music in the background.

"...Imprisoned in _Russia_?" Jack asked, looking down at her with a smug grin.

"I had to send them _somewhere_... we couldn't have them following us for the rest of our days, could we?"

Jack chuckled. "Well, I'm very glad they put us on that program. It's brought about three rather nice things..."

Lizzie sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, relinquishing the ice cream and enjoying the fact that she had someone to share it with. "And what would those be?"

"Well, for onsies, it's given us a bit of a laugh," he replied. "Twosies, we've been on TV -- we're practically famous..."

"What about threesies?" she asked innocently, looking up at him and trying desperately not to laugh at the twinkle in his eyes.

"Threesies," he said wistfully, "is that I'll have a bit more of a criminal reputation. They've practically advertized for me!"

He kissed the top of her head, and then the two of them became rather quiet. The truth was, when they thought about everything that had happened -- the running, the identity changes, the fear and nearly constant adrenaline rush -- it was all worth it. Even though the two gits who had been tracking them were now victims of the Russian government, and even though Lizzie's dad was currently having a minor nervous breakdown. It was worth it, because the both of them got what they wanted.

And criminals are bound to being selfish like sheep are bound to be woolly.

_-=-_


End file.
